


Scenes From Secundus

by Crossover_Chick



Series: The Secundus Verse [2]
Category: American McGee's Alice, Back to the Future (Movies), Corpse Bride (2005)
Genre: (from the Charloft community), Angst, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Domestic, Fluff, LiveJournal Prompt, Mad Science, Mad Scientists, Multi, Scenes from a life, Silly, Sweet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-04 14:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 60
Words: 22,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossover_Chick/pseuds/Crossover_Chick
Summary: There's a lot we haven't seen of Victor's life -- before, during, and after he settled into Secundus. Want to know a bit about how his childhood went? His friendship with Doc and Marty? His love affair with Alice? His eventual fatherhood? Well, here's a glimpse!A series of short ficlets written in response to various prompt challenges at the LiveJournal community "Charloft" (plus a few written for other reasons, like random inspiration from the A:MR artbook).





	1. Closer Than Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting off with a set of prompts from the Charloft "Winter Bingo" challenges! Each winter, the moderators would post "bingo cards" with a series of prompts. Your objective with each card was to get a "bingo" -- either by filling a row, a column, or -- if you were ambitious -- the whole card. My first winter there, I did three cards, filling in both a row and a column (along with a couple of "extra" prompts depending on where my inspiration took me); my second, just one, but I did the entire card to compensate. This ficlet is from my first card, written for the prompt _"family"_. I knew I wanted to do something about how Victor didn't feel close to his parents – this somewhat sappy thing resulted. Miss Horrocks is the first of Victor's governesses in my backstory for him (he ends up having six), and her name comes from one of the voice actresses on Corpse Bride – Jane Horrocks, who did Black Widow and Ms. Plum. Barry is the name I chose for the Van Dort butler (hey, if the Everglots have one, the Van Dorts definitely do as well!).

When Victor had been five, he’d asked his governess, Miss Horrocks, what exactly a family was. Miss Horrocks had explained that a family was a group of people who were related and who generally lived together. “You and your mother and your father are a family,” she’d said.

“But you and Barry and Mayhew live here with us as well,” Victor had replied. “Aren’t you part of our family?”

“Certainly not,” Miss Horrocks had said, almost too quickly. “We’re not related. You can only be family if you’re related, Victor.”

“But I like you. Why can’t you be family?”

“That’s just not how it works, Victor. Liking someone does _not_ make them family. Family is who you came from – your blood. People whom you like are just friends. You cannot _make_ someone family – except by marriage, of course, but we’ll talk about _that_ much later. Now, let us continue your lessons.”

And that had been the end of it. That was what Victor knew for the next fourteen years of his life – family was who you were related to. Not necessarily who you liked. (Not that he would ever admit to not liking his parents, but – but he was reasonably certain at times they didn’t like _him_ very much.) And there was absolutely no way to change that.

Then he’d gotten his foot caught in the ladder of a flying steam train and been dragged off to Secundus. And met Marty and Doc and Alice and scores of other people. People who liked him, who accepted him, who did their level best to make him happy. People who genuinely seemed to _care_ about him, more than his mother and father – his _family_ – ever had.

And that was when he decided Miss Horrocks had been wrong. Family was so much more than blood, than merely being related. Family was who you could depend on, who you could be sure would stand at your back. Who you loved.

That’s why he stayed in Secundus, he realized later. Because when he’d met Doc and Marty – he’d somehow instinctively known he was meeting the first members of his _real_ family.


	2. Not Even In The Bible

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another prompt from the first card I did for the Winter Bingo, this one _"thunder snow."_ The instant I saw this prompt, I thought of a certain Lewis Black routine where he saw lightning with snow and said that it was, basically, a sign of the end of the world. "They don't even write about that kind of weather in the Bible!" is the line that inspired the title. Also, originally it was going to be Helen Narbon with the weather machine (since the first storyline in "Narbonic" featured one), but I decided my universe needed more "Girl Genius" in it. It's set the summer after "Secundus," shortly after Victor and Alice got married.

_KABOOM!_

Victor nearly jumped out of his skin, dropping the book he was reading. “Goodness!” he said, pressing a hand to his heart. “Where did _that_ come from?”

“I think from outside,” Alice said, looking toward the sitting room window. There was a bright flash that could be seen even through the heavy curtains, then another loud boom. “A thunderstorm must have just come over us.”

“More like snuck up on us.” Victor retrieved his book, then got up and made his way to the window. “I didn’t have the slightest inkling until–”

He stopped abruptly as he parted the curtains. Outside the window was – was – he couldn’t believe it. It was the middle of summer for goodness’s sake! And with _thunder and lightning_?! For a long moment, all he could do was gape. Then, slowly, he found his voice again. “. . .It’s _snowing_.”

“It’s _what_?!” Alice joined him at the window, to see thick globs of snow pelting the glass. Behind them, lightning lit up the sky again. “Bloody hell, that’s a sign of the apocalypse, isn’t it?”

“I would say so. . . .” Victor thought hard for a moment. “Wait – didn’t Lady Heterodyne bring a weather machine with her when she came to the city?”

“Yes, actually, she did,” Alice said, relaxing a fraction. “And I think she said that she hadn’t got all the bugs worked out.” She looked at the snow melting against their window. “This is – a rather major bug, I’d say.”

“I know. But she’s the Heterodyne – I’m sure she’ll fix it.”

Sure enough, after a few minutes, the storm dwindled away into nothingness, leaving wet slush in its wake. Shortly thereafter, a female voice echoed throughout the sky: “Sorry about that! Mimmoth in the works!”

Alice shook her head. “The most powerful female Touched ruler in years, and she still has things like that happen to her.”

“I think it’s all part and parcel of being a mad scientist,” Victor said, turning around. “Come, let’s go check on Ferdinand and make sure he’s not too upset.” 


	3. Ordinary Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt three from Winter Bingo card one -- _"hot cocoa."_ Just some fluff of Victor hanging out with his best friends during a snowy day, set during the on-set of winter post-"Secundus." Nothing more special than that -- as Victor observes at the end, sometimes life in Secundus really is just ordinary.

“Goodness, it is _cold_ out!”

Victor hugged himself, trying in vain to stop his shivering. Dr. E. Brown’s 24-Hour Scientific Services did not feel like it was very well-heated today. Little drafts kept blowing in from under the door and from chinks around the windows. Victor half-fancied he could see his breath. “I do hope Marty and Doc come back soon,” he murmured, rubbing his hands together to warm them. “Then perhaps I can spend some time by the fire upstairs.”

Luck was with him – Doc and Marty appeared shortly after he spoke, cheeks and noses red from the chill. “Yikes,” Marty said, stamping his feet on the floor to remove the snow. “I don’t think we’re gonna see many customers today, Doc. It’s really goddamn cold.”

“I think you’re right, Marty,” Doc agreed, glancing out at the nearly barren streets. “It’s got to be below freezing out there. Let’s close up shop and head upstairs, all right?”

“Fine by me,” Marty said, heading straight for the stairs.

“Me too,” Victor said, following him. “Shall I make up the fire?”

“Please,” Doc nodded. “I’ll be with you boys in a bit.”

The two young men nodded back and made their way into the flat. “Did you get everything you needed?” Victor asked as he got the fire ready in the sitting room.

“Almost,” Marty said. “They were out of magnetic resonators. The guy said he’d have some in soon, though.”

“Good – then we can get back to work on the oscillator.” Victor sighed as the flames caught the logs, sending out waves of warmth into the room. “Oh, this is better already,” he said, claiming a seat on the couch.

“Tell me about it,” Marty said, leaning toward the fire and extending his hands.

Doc was rather slower to join them than expected – the reason for his delay proved to be a pleasant one, however, as he entered the room with three cups on a tray. “I figured we could all use some hot chocolate,” he said, distributing them.

“Thank you very much,” Victor said gratefully, taking the mug and gazing down into the brown steaming liquid. He warmed his hands on it before taking a cautious sip, being careful not to let the cocoa burn his tongue. It tasted wonderful, and the heat it provided was even better.

“Yeah, thanks a million, Doc,” Marty said, taking a big glug from his cup. “Aahhh. . . .”

They sat in contented silence after that, enjoying their drink and each other’s company. Victor looked at his companions for a moment, then smiled.

It was funny how _normal_ life in Secundus could be.


	4. Care and Cleaning of Your Riding Butterfly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More from Winter Bingo Card One -- although this particular story is set in the late summer/early autumn right after "Secundus". The prompt this time was _"flake,"_ , and the very first thing that popped into my head was a factoid I learned as a kid -- about a species of moth that can shed its wing scales to escape spider webs. I did a little research on what butterfly wings are made of, remembered that Ferdy is technically part-dog, and went from there. (And yes, Ferdy has a stable when Victor and Alice move into their own house -- gotta keep him somewhere!)

“Hello, Ferdinand!”

Victor laughed as an eager proboscis slid over his body, searching for food. “Yes, yes, I have some nectar for you,” he said, producing a fake flower filled with sugar water from behind his back. “Here you are.”

Ferdinand made a happy noise, “licking” Victor’s face before starting to drink. Victor patted the oversized butterfly on the head behind the antennae. “How are you today?” he asked, examining the little stable he’d set up for his pet and mount. Everything seemed to be in order– 

except that there was some odd debris on the floor. Frowning, Victor set the flower on a nearby shelf and leaned over to get a better look. Scattered all over the floor were large black flakes of some sort. Victor picked one up and examined it. The flake was vaguely rectangular in shape, with little notches on one of the shorter sides. It was stiff, but it had a soft texture, like a thin piece of wood covered with cloth. It also changed color as he turned it – from straight on it was black, but twisting it one way or the other turned it into a shimmery blue. “What the. . . .”

Ferdinand finished his drink and gave himself a little shake. Victor blinked as a few more flakes fell off the butterfly’s wings. The light came on in his head. “Oh! They’re your wing scales! But why are they coming off? They always stayed put before, I saw to that when–”

And then he remembered something. When he’d first made Ferdinand, he’d quickly discovered that, for a riding butterfly to be at all useful, it would have to have some mammalian traits. Being an ardent dog lover, had chosen to use canine DNA. And since butterfly wing scales were a form of hair. . . . He laughed as it became clear. “Oh dear – you’re _shedding_. I should have guessed. . .well, so long as they’re growing back.” He examined the wing closest to him. Yes, the scales did appear to be regenerating themselves. That was one problem averted – now, what to do about the flakes themselves? He looked down at the one he still held in his hands for a moment. It seemed far too pretty to just throw away. But what exactly could one do with shed giant butterfly wing scales? 

It hit him a moment later. “Hmm. Let me get a broom, and then we’ll take a ride over to Richard’s and see if he wants these,” he told Ferdinand. “Doubtless he’ll probably find a way to make a hat out of them.”

Ferdinand bounced a little, eager for the exercise. Victor laughed and went to fetch the broom. _Never a dull moment when you’re a Touched entomologist. . . ._


	5. Off By The Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing off a column in my first Winter Bingo card, this ficlet's prompt was _"holiday."_ I decided to go with the definition of "taking a vacation" so I could do a more summery take on the prompt. (I know it's Winter Bingo, but there's only so much winter one can take!) For some reason, despite his extremely-prone-to-sunburn complexion, I like the idea of Victor at the beach. The "Mechtorian Museum" is a reference to a neat line of steampunk toys – I own Scuttler the Butler and DJ Cramo. Oh, and Chester's six and the twins three, if you're curious.

The view was just as gorgeous now as it had been eight years ago.

Victor sighed as he leaned on the balcony railing, watching the waves crash onto the beach below. He was so glad they’d found the funds to take this holiday. He’d needed a bit of a break from the hustle and bustle of Secundus. He loved his adopted city, of course, but sometimes, there was only so much mad science gone wrong he could take.

He heard soft footsteps behind him, then felt an arm wrap around his waist. “Looks to be a lovely day,” Alice commented, looking first up at the sky, then down at the sand.

“It does,” Victor agreed. He smiled and drew her a bit closer. “Remember when we first came here, on our honeymoon? Walking along the boardwalk, building castles on the beach, visiting the Mechtorian Museum. . . .”

“We did all that too?”

Victor snorted, then attempted to give Alice a severe look. “Mrs. Van Dort, I don’t think I care for what you’re implying,” he said in his snootiest voice.

“You certainly cared for it back then,” Alice replied mildly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “I have proof aplenty, Mr. Van Dort.”

Victor gave up his airs with a laugh, then gave her a loving squeeze. “It’s like nothing’s changed,” he said quietly, glancing from her to the beach and back again. “It’s just as it was eight years ago.”

Alice shook her head. “Not quite.”

“Oh?”

“Mummy? Daddy?”

“Yes – there’s them to contend with, for a start.”

Chester padded out onto the balcony, followed by Vincent and Lorina. “Is it breakfast-time?” Chester asked, rubbing his stomach. “I’m hungry.”

“Yes, we can go have breakfast,” Victor said, crouching down so he could address his children at eye level (or close enough to). “And then we’ll go and play in the sand, all right?”

The three grinned and nodded eagerly. Victor smiled and hugged them all tight, Alice joining in. No, things weren’t just as they were eight years ago.

They were so much better.


	6. One Door Closes. . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now going sideways for the first time on Winter Bingo card one, we have the prompt _"Janus."_ Janus, for those not in the know, is the Roman god of doorways, beginnings and endings, and time. His name is where we get the month of January. This fic basically just came to me as a good way of seeing my favorite couple into the New Year. After all, it has been a very busy year for both of them -- they're allowed a bit of time to ponder it.

“Almost midnight!”

Alice turned and grinned at her husband as she finished pouring the champagne. “I’ve always liked New Year’s Eve,” she continued, going over and handing him his drink. “It’s an exciting moment for me, going into the new year. Everything seems ripe with possibility.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Alice frowned. Victor didn’t seem particularly enthusiastic. He was slouched over on the couch, staring absently into space. She’d expected him to be a little excited at least. “Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting next to him.

“N-no! I–” He stopped as she gave him her best “I know you’re lying” look and sighed. “It’s just been such a strange year for me,” he admitted, looking down into his drink. “When last New Year’s came around, I thought the most exciting thing that was going to happen to me was an arranged marriage. Instead I found myself accidentally kidnapped by a flying steam train, taken to the Mad Science Capital of the World, and meeting so many wonderful people – including the love of my life,” he added with one of those warm smiles that never failed to send a tingle down her spine.

Then it vanished, leaving him with a rather haunted look. “And then – g-going Creative, and f-fighting the Queen of Hearts, and – and finding Lewis d-dead, and l-losing my parents. . . .” His eyes went to the floor as he took a deep, steadying breath. “I w-would like to say this was the b-best year of my life, but – there’s b-been a lot of b-bad in it.”

Alice watched him, feeling a rush of sympathy. She knew what he was feeling – losing Lewis had been hard on her too. He’d been her friend for ages – losing him had felt rather like losing another family member, ripping open a lot of old wounds. (Not to mention all the awkwardness and horrible things that had resulted from the events surrounding his death. . . .) And she knew what it was like to go mad, and to lose two of the most important people in your life.

Except – she didn’t, not quite. Victor’s madness was a different strain from her own. She was familiar with Touched, yes, but she had no idea what it was like to _be_ one. Catatonia and manic creativity were about as different as chalk and cheese. And the loss of her parents had been a tragic accident. The loss of _his_. . .how could she ever comprehend what it was like to be _rejected_ by one’s own parents? For something one couldn’t even help? She sighed. No wonder Victor felt a little morose.

But she knew something else – even if she couldn’t hope to understand all Victor had gone through, she could help and support him. She reached out and placed a hand on his back. “Yes, there’s been a lot of bad this year,” she agreed softly. Then she smiled hopefully. “But I rather think the good outweighs it. After all, even with everything that happened, you found a home here. You found friends who would do anything for you. And I – I found you.”

Victor looked up at her. Slowly, he smiled back and nodded. “That’s very true,” he said. “And I know as long as I have you, this new year will be wonderful, no matter what.”

Alice felt herself getting a little misty-eyed. She raised her glass as the clock in the corner began chiming midnight. “Out with the old. . . .”

“And in with the new,” Victor completed, clinking his glass against hers, before leaning in and kissing her.


	7. Better Than A Blanket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was actually of my own choosing, as it landed in the middle of the card and thus was an "Author's Choice" prompt. I chose _"warmth,"_ and came up with this bit of quick fluff for my OTP. I wanted something to balance out the prompts specifically about the cold, and something that allowed me to use my "Victor somehow is always chilly at night" headcanon. Think it came out pretty well.

Victor never knew _why_ he tended to get so cold at night. Keeping himself a comfortable temperature never seemed to be a problem in the daylight. But at night, no matter how many covers he piled on himself, it seemed he always woke up shivering at least once. Even in summer, he generally needed at least one thin blanket. He tried hot water bottles, bedwarmers heated in the fire – even, upon coming to Secundus, one of those newfangled self-heating blankets. Nothing _quite_ seemed to work.

Then, upon marrying Alice, he found that he was sleeping a little better than he had in the past. Puzzled by this at first, it didn’t take him long to find out the cause. His beloved wife was kind and intelligent and had a wonderful sense of humor –

But, most importantly for his bed, she was _warm_.


	8. An Oddity of Pigmentation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Down the row on Winter Bingo Card One again, this time with the prompt _"blue."_ My first thought was do something related to blue butterflies, but then this popped into my head, and I decided it was a bit more interesting. Besides, it's a valid question! You can assume this takes place before the climax of "Secundus" -- it feels more pre-Touched Victor to me.

“Er, Emily? Do you mind if I ask you a – a p-possibly personal question?”

Emily turned to Victor with a smile. “Not at all. What is it?”

Victor fiddled a bit with his tie. He felt odd, asking this, but part of him just had to know. “Well, I’ve always w-wondered – do you know w-why your skin is – blue?”

Emily looked down at her one fleshed hand, examining it for a moment. “Sort of,” she said. “I asked Dr. Finklestein about it a day or two after he brought me back – once I’d gotten over the shock. He went into a rather long explanation I didn’t quite understand. Something about a ‘pigmentation change due to the reanimation process.’ I think that means the way he resurrects people turns them funny colors.”

Victor frowned. “One would think he’d try to fix that.”

“I don’t think he cares,” Emily said. Holding up her skeletal hand, she added, “Especially given the sort of dead he tends to resurrect. Having oddly-colored skin wouldn’t bother Bonejangles or Jack, after all.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Victor allowed. “Still. . .does it bother you at all?”

“It did at first,” Emily admitted, putting her hand down and twiddling her thumbs. “But as I got to know Sally and the others, it seemed less important. And after meeting you and your friends. . . .” She tilted her head, looking suddenly worried. “It’s never bothered you, has it? My being blue?”

Victor grinned at her. “Emily, one of my dearest friends – and your boyfriend, may I add – is _green_. I asked merely because I was curious.” He looked thoughtfully off into the distance. “Though, speaking of which, I have wondered why Richard’s skin is green.”

“Oh, I already asked him about that,” Emily said. “Apparently he has a rather – _odd_ reaction to high doses of mercury.”


	9. Our Trolls Are Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finishing off the row in Winter Bingo Card One with the prompt _"lawn ornament!"_ My original idea was for a _Wallace & Gromit_ crossover (since one of the cute things about their house in the shorts/movie is their interesting collection of various lawn gnomes), but then the idea of doing a **_Discworld_** crossover hit me, and -- yeah. Had to throw in a few characters from my favorite book series. :D I was hoping to get Twoflower and Rincewind into the main narrative of "Secundus," in fact, but I could never find a spot for them. Ah well. . . The title's a slightly-altered version of the TV Tropes page [All Trolls Are Different](http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AllTrollsAreDifferent) \-- I'm pretty sure I was looking at that page or a related one when I came up with the idea.

Victor peered at the little pile of rocks sitting on the yard outside the house. Something about it had caught his attention as he passed by – he wasn’t sure what yet, but he was determined to find out. “What an odd-looking thing to have on one’s lawn,” he murmured to himself.

“Oh, actually, that’s an infant troll.”

Victor jerked his head up to see a man in a strangely-colored shirt and vest grinning at him. “A _what_?”

“A troll!” the man said again. “They’re a silicon-based life form – that’s why they look like rocks. They were Created for a colder climate, and they’re primarily nocturnal, so they tend to sleep during the day. Many a miner has been digging for precious metals, only to find a strong hand strangling the life out of them for disturbing its beauty sleep.”

Victor nodded slowly. The man’s smile as he related that information was a little disturbing. “I, ah, see. H-how do you know all this?”

“It was all in my travel guide!”

“Travel guide?”

“Yes. I first came here as a tourist,” the man explained. “I didn’t expect to stay long – I just wanted to see the city everyone talked about, and maybe have some life-changing experiences I could tell the others back home. Then I met Rincewind!” 

“Rincewind Pratchett?” Victor guessed. Even back in Burtonsville, he’d heard stories about Rincewind. The man had a talent for getting himself into horrible, life-threatening trouble no matter how much he said he wanted a normal, boring life. (Victor wondered what he was doing living in Secundus if _that_ was the case.)

“Yes! He’d recently come here after leaving Unseen University – you know, that university for Sparks and Igors? He and I had some _amazing_ adventures, and after all was said and done, I couldn’t bring myself to leave.” The man grinned. “I’m so glad we met. He’s such a good friend.”

“Twoflower! Get in here and stop your Luggage from stealing all my crisps!”

“Coming! Good day to you, sir!” The man – Twoflower – turned to go.

“Just a moment – why do you have an infant troll?” Victor called after him.

“Oh, the Luggage burped it up. We’re just looking after it until I can convince Rincewind that a trip into the mountains to return it really is worth the trouble.” Twoflower gave him a wave and disappeared inside the house.

Victor watched him go, then looked back at the little pile of rocks. Sure enough, if he looked very closely, he could see a slight tremor going through it, as if it were breathing. He shook his head and continued onward, back into the main part of the city. “Never know _what_ you’ll see in Secundus. . . .”


	10. Inspiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the "spare" prompts from Winter Bingo Card One, _"luminaries"_ immediately made me think of the famous glowing butterflies from Victor's dreams in "Secundus." What can I say, I like them. Besides, when I looked up the word and found that it meant "people who inspire" as well as "sources of light," I had to do a fic that hit on both definitions. The title is a nod towards "Genius: The Transgression," a fanmade World of Darkness supplement about mad scientists that I was interested in at the time of writing. Geniuses are said to be filled "with the light of Inspiration."

It had to be the result of living in Secundus, Victor decided one morning while washing his face. Probably everyone who lived here and wasn’t already a Touched had dreams like the ones he’d been having lately. It was only natural, when one was surrounded by men and women who could bend the laws of physics, biology, and chemistry to their whims. Such things had to rub off on one.

And it was obvious he’d be affected more than the average person out on the street. He _lived_ with a Touched and his Igor – hell, he probably qualified for Igor status himself at this point. And all of his friends were either Touched or close friends with Touched themselves (if not the result of their experiments). His days were filled with the sort of science that led to the creation of wonders – time travel theory, chemical drink mixtures, engineering for artificial limbs, and a thousand other things. Really, when he thought about it, it would be stranger for him _not_ to have the dreams.

And yet. . .Victor couldn’t shake that niggling feeling that the glowing butterflies that haunted his nights were much more important than he realized. 


	11. Not Alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last prompt of Winter Bingo Card One, and -- well, I guess it's a little on the angsty side. Hopeful angst though, if that makes any sense. The prompt that caught my eye this time was _"daughter,"_ , meaning this is a fic post-"Secundus 2." WAY post -- this takes place while Victor and Alice's kids are teenagers. In a weird way, though, this story was a presence in my head ever since I started planning "Secundus." Mostly because I knew Victor and Alice would have three children, and each child would get something specific from Victor. Chester got the looks; Vincent, the musical talent; and Lorina. . .

“Dad!”

Victor turned around to see Vincent running up to him. His stomach immediately did a nervous flip-flop – Vincent looked extremely worried about something, brown eyes wide with what appeared to be fright. “Vincent? What is it?” he asked, reaching out to touch his younger son’s shoulder.

“It’s Lorina,” Vincent said, panting slightly. “She’s locked herself in her room and she won’t come out. Mum says you should come home right away.”

“Locked herself in her room?” Victor repeated, puzzled. That was very unlike his daughter. Lorina was usually a rather sweet and personable young lady, not prone to sulking or fits of gloominess. Victor didn’t think she’d ever done something like this before. All thoughts about getting some new quill pens and paper fled. “All right, let’s be off.”

The pair jogged back to their house. Chester and Alice were waiting for them in the front foyer. “What’s happened? Do we know why she’s locked herself in?” Victor demanded as they came inside.

“I have an idea,” Alice admitted, glancing behind her. Before Victor could ask anything else, she turned back to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Before you ask, we have tried to talk to her. But – I really think she needs her father.”

Victor wasn’t sure what caused it – Alice’s tone of voice, her expression, maybe even the way she touched him – but something clicked in his head. _Oh my God. . . ._ He’d always worried about this possibility, did his best to prepare for it, but still, to actually have it _happen_. . . . (A small part of him was surprised it wasn’t Chester who was affected – somehow his older son inheriting practically all of his looks had made him half-certain he was going to be the one to get something else from him as well.) Without waiting a second more, he made his way to Lorina’s room.

The hallway outside her room was eerily quiet – not a good sign. Victor took a deep breath and knocked on her door. “Lorina?” he called, as gently as possible. “It’s your father. M-may I come in?”

There was a moment of silence that seemed to last for years. Then, slowly, there was a click, and the door swung open to reveal Lorina, looking pale and worn, her eyes rimmed with red. Behind her, Victor could see that the room was in disarray – and that the wallpaper had been ruined by copious amounts of scribbling. “Daddy?” she choked out, voice wavering and filled with that indescribable _something_ that signaled your brain would never be the same.

Victor promptly enveloped his newly-Touched daughter in a hug. “It’s okay,” he whispered, rocking her as she started crying, remembering his own experiences when he’d first gone Creative. Alice had saved him from the madness then – and now, he was going to do the same with his little girl. “You’re going to be fine,” he assured her as she clung to him. Then, letting a little of the Creativity leak into his own voice, he added, “You’re not alone.”


	12. Comfort For The Soul

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto Winter Bingo Card Two! And starting with a rather bittersweet prompt: _"hallelujah."_ This one was kind of tough for me – I come from a very non-religious family, so I always feel a bit weird when writing about religious figures and such. However, religion is a (very minor) part of Victor's life, and I figured he'd be seeking out some of this sort of comfort post-Going Creative _and_ being officially disowned by his parents (an event that happens between the last main chapter of "Secundus" and its epilogue). And so I created The First Church of Steam and its owner, Father Gale. My idea was to make this a very open, very accepting place - this Church accepts _everybody_ , from Touched to Automatons, and is all about showing science and religion can coexist peacefully. Father Gale simply wants to spread the Word and encourage everyone in the city to be good to each other. I hope he comes off as appropriately fatherly here. (At the very least, he has to look a LOT better than Pastor Galswells.)

The First Church of Steam was quiet today. Normally there would be some sort of activity, even if it was only a parishioner dropping in to ask a question or confess his sins. But today it was just Father Gale and the benches. He was dusting behind the pulpit when he heard the door open. He looked up to see a pale, thin figure slouch inside. “May I help you?” he asked, putting down the duster.

The young man started. As he looked up, Father Gale realized it was Victor Van Dort. He’d only started coming to the church recently, but it was impossible not to recognize that face. Not after it had been in the papers so much. “Oh! I’m s-sorry, I didn’t realize – I’m n-not interrupting, am I?” he asked, twisting his tie and not quite meeting Father Gale’s eyes.

“Nothing but a bit of cleaning,” Father Gale assured him as he walked closer. “Certainly nothing that can’t wait for another time.” He tilted his head, studying Victor a moment. The young man seemed incredibly nervous. And there was an exhausted look on his face that spoke of rough times in the recent past. “Is there something you needed?” he asked gently.

Victor remained silent for a few minutes. Then, slowly, he looked up. “My parents – they just–” He stopped, blinking a few times. “I’ve been disowned.”

Father Gale felt a wave of sympathy for the poor boy. “I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to put a hand on Victor’s shoulder.

“They don’t want a – a m-mad son,” Victor continued, the words seemingly coming easier now that he’d started. “Don’t want the shame, don’t want the scandal. . . .” He fell silent for a moment. “M-Mother said I was p-probably damned,” he added in a whisper.

Father Gale struggled a moment to keep from showing the anger that statement caused in him. Why was it so many people were so willing to condemn others just for a quirk of genetics? Before he could speak, though, Victor went on. “Pastor Galswells – he’s in charge of the church at home – would say the same. All of Burtonsville probably thinks Touched are in Satan’s thrall. And now I – I’m–” Victor’s breathing became shaky as his hands began to tremble.

Father Gale frowned, concerned. He knew the warning signs of a possible breakdown. “Would you like to sit down?” he offered gently.

Victor nodded, and they took their seats on a nearby bench. “I don’t even know why I’m upset,” he said, once he’d steadied himself a bit. “I had no intention of ever returning to Burtonsville. I love it in Secundus. I have things here I never had at home – friends, love, inspiration. . . .” He shook his head. “But – but–”

“But you’re losing a rather large part of your past,” Father Gale said understandingly. “I’ve seen this before. Young Touched, new to the life, realizing things will never be the same. . .and parents who don’t understand. . . .” He lightly squeezed Victor’s shoulder. “You are never alone. Always remember that.”

Victor smiled. “I know. I’m very lucky. My friends have been so good to me. And Alice – she’s honestly the best thing to ever happen to me.” He looked down, becoming somber again. “I just – I suppose I am h-having trouble adjusting to the n-new order. To – w-what I am now.”

“It’s only natural,” Father Gale told him. “Things will get better, though, I assure you. And no matter _what_ happens, you will always have a place here.” He gently raised the young man’s head. “God loves you, Victor, no matter your mental state. You are not damned.”

That got another, bigger smile. Victor looked like he’d had a weight lifted off him. “Thank you.” He paused, then added, “Is it a sin to say I like you much better than I ever liked Pastor Galswells?”

Father Gale chuckled. “Maybe a very minor one – but we’ll let it pass.”


	13. On The Edge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next one from Winter Bingo Card Two is a darkish prompt -- _"stressed."_ I felt it important to point out somewhere that Atypical Scientific Neural Disorder, while it has many benefits, IS still technically classified as a mental disorder, and not all the things it does to one's brain are good. Bad days are sadly a given. And sometimes, I just want to write an angsty Victor for a bit.

_Don’t give in don’t give in don’t give in_

Victor clutched at his scalp, his fingernails digging into the skin. Today – today was a bad day. He’d had an inkling that it was going to be when he woke up, but he’d only caught the full brunt of it when he entered his laboratory. Absolutely nothing about his latest experiment was going right. His formulas were all wrong, he’d spilled a batch of chemicals he needed, and the moth he’d been trying to alter had escaped and was currently hiding somewhere. The stress and frustration had just kept building up and building up, making his brain snap and spark and _burn_ , and now he was reduced to squeezing his head as hard as he could to keep it from _exploding_. 

He whimpered, wishing that the terrible headache assaulting him would go away. It felt like a physical representation of his madness, clawing at the back of his eyes, trying to chew its way out of his skull. Normally, he didn’t have a problem with being Touched. The Creativity that filled his head was gentle, joyous, fun – most of the time. But then there were days like this, days where the madness whispered dark and painful thoughts that he didn’t want to hear. Atypical Scientific Neural Disorder gave so much to its sufferers, but it took from them as well. He had the ability to do things no sane scientist could, but in return he had to spend days like this hunched over his experimentation table, clinging desperately to sanity, while below him, the abyss beckoned. Victor knew he should get up and find his wife – Alice could somehow quiet the madness, put it back under his control – but he couldn’t get himself to move. He felt that if he moved, he’d upset some sort of balance, and he’d be lost forever in the swirl of Creativity. So instead he dug his nails into his hair and prayed she’d come looking for him.

A sudden tug on his pants leg caught his attention. Victor managed to turn his head enough to see his two-year-old son looking up at him with worried eyes. Victor felt his stomach do a nervous flip-flop over everything else. God, he’d never wanted Chester to see him this way, never wanted him to know the pain he sometimes went through. . . .

Chester stared at him a moment longer. Then he held up the snack he’d somehow procured. “Cookie, Daddy?”

Victor had no idea what caused it – the fact that Chester had inherited Alice’s green eyes, the simple compassion of the gesture, or maybe even the absurdity of being offered a cookie while in the midst of fighting off a mental breakdown – but he felt the pressure in his head ease. He promptly reached down and swept his little boy up into a hug. He rocked himself and Chester together, almost crying in relief as sanity slid back in and took over again.

This was why he’d never give in to the madness. There was far too much to lose.


	14. Tea Fixes Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next for Winter Bingo Card Two is _"stollen"_ \-- a light-hearted, Christmassy prompt! I had to look this one up – as Doc explains below, it's basically a specific German version of fruitcake. Once I knew what it was and its origins, I managed to build a story around it involving Doc and Marty – I wanted them to appear more in these prompts. And, for the record, Doc's usually a better cook than this.

“Victor! Alice! Glad you could make it!”

Victor grinned as he reentered the tiny flat where he’d spent his first turbulent months in Secundus. “Well, we were hardly going to pass up an invitation to tea from some of our dearest friends,” he pointed out. “Alice and I made some cookies for the occasion.” Alice held up the wrapped plate.

“Great, thank you,” Doc said, accepting it. “They should go nicely with the stollen.”

Victor and Alice both blinked. “The what?” Alice said, frowning in confusion.

“The fruitcake,” Marty said, leading the way into the little sitting room.

“It’s a Germanic variation,” Doc explained, as Victor and Alice took their seats. “A loaf-shaped cake filled with dried fruit and covered with sugar. My family used to have it as a kid. I decided to go ahead and give it a whirl myself this year. Getting back to my roots, so to speak.”

“Oh. Well, I look forward to it,” Victor said with a smile.

Richard, March, and Dormy arrived not long afterward, and the group shared a pleasant (if slightly crowded) tea. After everyone had eaten their fill of sandwiches, the cookies and Doc’s stollen were laid out. “All right, let’s see how this is,” Doc said proudly, picking up a knife and cutting into the cake.

Or, at least, he tried to. He frowned as he sawed away at the crust. “Hmmm. It should be – well, it appears I may have overcooked this a little.” He tried putting more pressure on the knife with a grunt. “Damn it, I don’t remember making this out of cement. . . .”

“Here, allow me,” Alice said, pulling out the gleaming Vorpal Blade. The impossibly sharp knife sliced through the hard cake with ease. Alice cut a little wedge out, then looked around. “Anyone want to try it?”

“I would, but I’m a little nervous about breaking my teeth on it,” Marty admitted. “No offense, Doc.”

“None taken,” Doc said with a sigh. “Look, no one has to eat my mistake, the cookies should be enough for everyone. . . .”

“A true Touched never shies away from a challenge,” Richard said, peering at the wedge. “Besides, all we know for sure is that it’s hard. It might taste just fine. Now, how does one make a cake softer?”

Victor’s eyes fell on Burnie the teapot, who’d followed his master to the party. “I have an idea,” he said, taking the wedge onto his plate. “Burnie, could you come here and pour some tea on this?”

Burnie scuttled over and obligingly soaked the slice of stollen. Victor allowed the tea to sink in for a moment, then tried his fork on the cake. It cut easily now, allowing him to taste a bit. He chewed it thoughtfully. “Actually, yes, this is pretty good,” he allowed, as the others watched him. “I think the tea adds to it, in fact.”

“Tea adds to _everything_ ,” Richard said with a proud smile.

“I’m certainly not going to debate that in this case,” Doc said, laughing. “Mind taking care of the rest of the cake, Burnie?”


	15. Just Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on down the line for Winter Bingo Card Two, the prompt _"glitter!"_ Which turned into a cute, fluffy family story about Victor making a new butterfly! And, with the very last couple of lines, a prequel of sorts to ["Not Alone"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367019/chapters/32451804) from Card One.

“Daddy? Is it okay to visit?”

Victor turned toward the door of the conservatory/laboratory with a grin. “Yes – in fact, I’d like you to come in. I have something to show off.”

Lorina grinned back and pushed open the door. She and her brothers made their way to the workbench, past the twining flowers and bits of scientific apparatus Victor kept on hand for his experiments. “What have you made this time?” she asked as she, Vincent, and Chester formed a semicircle around their father.

Victor proudly picked up the bell jar and book holding his latest Invention and brought it around to show his children. “What do you think of this one?”

The children gasped in delight as the butterfly fluttered around its tiny glass prison. “Oh, look at the wings!” Lorina whispered. “They’re all sparkly!”

“It looks like it’s covered in glitter,” Vincent agreed, pressing a finger against the glass.

“It seems to be shedding glitter too,” Chester noted, pointing out the tiny sparkles spread out beneath the butterfly.

“The result of wing scale overproduction,” Victor said. “I’m not sure if I actually want to correct it or not. People might enjoy following butterflies that leave a trail like that.”

“Doesn’t that mean things that _eat_ butterflies can find it easier too?” Chester pointed out.

“True – that’s why I made it bad-tasting to predators,” Victor said with a half-smile.

“You make all the neatest things, Daddy,” Vincent said proudly, causing Victor to blush.

“Children! Victor! Time for lunch!”

“Oh dear – you’d better go wash up,” Victor said, setting the book and bell jar down. “I’ll be with you in a moment – just have to make some final notes and set my little friend free.”

The children nodded and headed back for the door. Lorina lingered a moment behind her brothers. “You really do make wonderful things, Daddy,” she said brightly. “I hope I grow up to be just like you.”

Then she left, not noticing the brief, torn expression of pleasure and fright on Victor’s face.


	16. Come And Join The Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last prompt of the column I did for Winter Bingo Card Two was _"Dancer,"_ , which was right up my alley because if there's one thing I love, it's Victor and Alice dancing together. Particularly if Victor is nervous about his dancing skills, but then proves not to be as bad as you might expect! The title is a lyric from "The Lobster Quadrille," my favorite song in any version of Alice In Wonderland. (Also, yes, there was a Queen of Hearts in Wonderland Park already before the "incident" in "Secundus" – remember how in that story it's implied the tentacled one had corrupted already-existing Card Guards? Granted, _post_ -incident, probably no one among the Card people ever uses that title again. . .)

Victor had never considered himself much of a dancer. He disliked balls simply because they were always so crowded. His nerves always seemed to get the best of him among large groups of people – he was constantly worrying about etiquette and small talk and correct form and all those other fiddly things that society liked to pester a young bachelor about. And with so much of his mind on that, there was very little left to direct his feet. As such, if anyone deigned to dance with him, he inevitably ended up tripping or stepping on their foot or otherwise looking like a fool. When it came to dancing, Victor much preferred to be the wallflower.

But, like so many other things, that changed when he came to Secundus. When he, Victoria, and Emily were introduced properly to the Card and Chess people of Wonderland Park, the Queens of Heart, Diamond, Spade, Clubs, Red, and White declared that there should be a ball to welcome their newest friends. Victor's nerves spiked up immediately – how on earth could he dance in front of all those strangers? He didn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his companions, and _especially_ not Alice.

But by the time the ball actually happened, he'd discovered something about Wonderlanders – they didn’t give tuppence for etiquette or small talk or correct form. They just wanted everyone to have fun. By the time Alice urged him out onto the floor to try the Lobster Quadrille, Victor was feeling relaxed enough to actually go ahead and attempt it.

And, to his astonishment and delight, despite it being rather more energetic than any other he’d tried, he didn’t misstep once. 


	17. Only L29.95 If You Buy Now!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, our next prompt on Winter Bingo Card Two is _hark_ , and it's an entirely silly one. I was browsing TV Tropes shortly before writing this and came across the trope Too Incompetent To Operate A Blanket. I browsed the page, looked at some of the linked videos – and Butterfly Boy started laughing and INSISTED I do a fic with this. So yeah, you can actually blame my muse for this one. (Also my own love of stupid informercials -- I used to love watching the ones about vacuum-sealing your food.) The Motorized Knife was just the first thing to pop into my head. (Also, please pretend my L is a pound sign in the title there.)

“People! Gather round, please!”

Victor paused as the shout echoed throughout the park. He turned to see a man on a makeshift stage, holding up his yellow-gloved hands and waving them to attract the attention of passerby. Behind him, two other men were setting up a pair of tables. People were already beginning to form a crowd in front of him. As curious as anyone else, Victor joined it. _What is it he wants to show us?_

After a few minutes, everything seemed to be ready. The man scanned the crowd, judged it to be of adequate size, and began. “My friends – has this ever happened to you?” He indicated one of his assistants, standing behind one of the tables and apparently doing his best to stab a tomato on a plate to death. “Clumsy knives that won’t cut? Making a mess of your precious food – or worse, your fingers?” The assistant mimed cutting himself with the knife, letting out a cry of pain so fake Victor had to cover his mouth with his hands to hold in a snicker. “And now, look at all that clean-up!” The yellow-gloved man pointed accusingly at the juice all over the plate, then grinned brightly. “What you need is Professor Fantastic’s Motorized Knife!” He waved at his other assistant, who had a tomato of his own and the oddest knife Victor had ever seen. Instead of one large blade, it seemed to have a series of tiny ones mounted all around on a chain. Attached to the handle was a little motor. At Professor Fantastic’s nod, the second assistant switched it on and placed the instrument against the tomato. With a little “rrrrr” noise, it cut through. “With Professor Fantastic’s Motorized Knife, cutting vegetables, fruit, and even meat is a breeze! No more–”

CRACK! The plate underneath the second tomato broke as the Motorized Knife came in contact with it. The assistant hurriedly switched it off and tried to smile. “Imbecile!” Professor Fantastic yelled, before attempting to switch back into “pitchman” mode. “See, it even cuts through ceramic! Amazing! And no more. . . .” He held up a chunk of plate, only to see it dripping with juice. “Well, easier clean up,” he corrected hurriedly, throwing the plate chunk over his shoulder.

Victor couldn’t help it anymore – he burst out laughing. The rest of the crowd quickly followed suit. Professor Fantastic scowled at them. “You’re all fools!” he declared, before storming off, leaving his assistants to try and clean up the stage.

Victor kept giggling as he walked away. He felt a bit guilty about ruining the demonstration, but he really didn’t think he’d done more damage to it than Professor Fantastic himself had. “Oh, it’s truly amazing what some Touched consider great inventions,” he murmured. “Poor fellow should have done some more testing.”

“Hear ye! Hear ye! Do you have trouble cracking eggs?”

Victor stopped, then turned and jogged in the direction of the voice, grinning. Oh, there was _no_ way he was missing this one.


	18. Where's My Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving from a funny prompt to a fluffy one this time on Winter Bingo Card Two -- _"valentine!"_ I of course had to do Victor and Alice's first Valentine's Day together, which just so happens to occur very close to their first date. Yeah, just how the timing worked out. Those of you who've read the Forgotten Vows Verse will probably recognize the drawing Victor does -- I like the idea that it's one of those things that reoccurs through a lot of the Valice universes I've set up. :) The title of the fic comes from the song of the same name by Metro Station, which appears on the "Almost Alice" CD created to tie in with Tim Burton's _Alice In Wonderland_. (There's a fair number of songs on it that I feel could apply very well to the American McGee Alice and this pairing of her with Victor.)

Even though it occurred less than a week after their very first date, Victor still felt it important to mark Valentine’s Day with Alice. After all, it was his first Valentine’s Day with a proper girlfriend. He didn’t want to make too big a deal out of it, of course – that would be silly, considering the newness of their relationship. He just wanted to do something a bit special for her. Something to show how much he appreciated her giving him and their love a chance. The trouble was – what?

He puzzled over the problem as the date neared. There was the obvious answer of flowers, but Victor felt Alice deserved something a bit more interesting. Candy was out – Alice had expressed before a dislike of sweets. A card seemed a little too impersonal. A poem? No, he was a better artist than a –

It hit him like a bolt from the blue. Of _course_ – that would be perfect! He seized his sketchbook and quill pen and set to work. And when Valentine’s Day arrived, he proudly presented to his new lady love a drawing of her floating in the exhaust pipes of the Wonderland Park steamworks. He considered it something of an achievement – he’d always had a bit of trouble drawing people, but this time, the image had flowed out of his pen easily. Like his fingers had just been waiting to sketch Alice at her best. He wondered if she’d mind that he’d styled the steam behind her to look like wings and a halo.

Judging by the tearful kiss he received, she didn’t. (And the fact she’d thought to get _him_ some chocolates just sealed it in his mind that they were meant to be.)


	19. I Just Want To Hold You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our next Winter Bingo Card Two prompt is another fluffy one -- _"snuggle!"_ Which turned into our obligatory "repressed Victorians" fic! To be fair, I do see the citizens of Burtonsville as _particularly_ repressed, thanks to the movie's aesthetic. And, for some reason, Victor strikes me as a guy who'd be a bit more touchy-feely if he'd grown up in a different era. He just gives off a "huggy" vibe. (Probably the reason he and Alice end up cuddling so much in later works of mine. . .also, yes, this was written before _Alice: Madness Returns_ indicated Alice didn't like being touched. Even with that, I figure her boyfriend/eventual husband would be an exception to that rule.)

Victor’s world, growing up, had been one of repression. The residents of Burtonsville weren’t ones for showing grand displays of emotion. The people there believed in quiet, stoic lives. Displays of affection, particularly physical ones, were deeply frowned upon. Victor had discovered early on that men and women weren’t to be seen touching unless it was absolutely necessary. If you weren’t engaged to your paramour, things like kissing and hugging – or even holding hands – were strictly out of the question. After you got married, taking each other’s arms on walks and brief kisses were considered acceptable, but certainly nothing further. Touch, it seemed, was the forbidden sense.

Victor had thought it normal as a child. After all, his parents seemed to get along fine without physical affection. And so did all the other couples in Burtonsville – some, like the Everglots, even seemed to loathe the idea of touching each other. But as he came of age, he discovered that he actually really _wanted_ to touch people. The idea of having a girl at your side and never being able to hold her, to bring her close and cuddle her, suddenly seemed like a slow torture. It didn’t help things when he discovered the penny dreadfuls and their lurid tales of romance and passion. People touched a _lot_ in those publications. Seeing descriptions of people hugging and kissing and – doing other things – just made Victor want it all the more. But he was a polite young gentleman, and he didn’t want to cause any fuss, so he adhered to the rules and kept his hands to himself. All while hoping that maybe someday, if he was particularly lucky, he’d meet a girl who would want to be held.

And, to his immense shock, he did. Victor looked down at Alice, snuggled up against him as they sat by the Pool of Tears. The weight of her body against his, the softness of her skin, the silkiness of her hair. . . . It was all so wonderful, so _perfect_. Everything he’d been craving. Victor smiled and pulled his arm around her a little tighter.

Oh yes – this was _much_ better than just walking next to her.


	20. Squeeze Me Gently

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second-to-last prompt from Winter Bingo Card Two is a comedy piece, with the prompt being _"noisemaker!"_ This one was inspired by one of my favorite Jim Carrey movies, _The Mask_ \-- I somehow managed to get back into that and into _Corpse Bride_ around the same time, so I guess it was inevitable. Also, pity the poor Alice who is _not_ a video game character and thus doesn't get perks like her Vorpal Blade automatically returning to her when she throws it.

“ _Oh my God that’s a Jabberspawn?!_ ”

“Yup,” Alice said, adjusting her grip on her branch minutely. “Horrible things, aren’t they?”

“They’re all teeth!” Emily squeaked, clinging to the trunk of their tree.

Victor shivered, staring down at the beast circling below them. “They’re straight out of a nightmare,” he agreed. “Though I don’t see how any of them could grow into a Jabberwock.”

“They don’t,” Alice said. “They’re technically only a related species. We call them Jabberspawn because Lewis was trying to make a smaller, tame version of the Jabberwock. As you can see, it backfired.”

“Drastically,” Victor nodded, as the beast growled and snapped its tail at the tree.

“How did it find us?” Victoria asked, voice trembling. “It doesn’t have any eyes – just those awful pipe things.”

“It doesn’t need to see – it relies on smell and hearing. We’re just lucky we had the time to get up here.” Alice scowled down at the Jabberspawn. “Ugh, and me with just my Vorpal Blade. Of course, I wasn’t expecting to have to bring my heavier weaponry to a picnic. . . .”

“I thought your blade could cut through anything?” Victor asked, shifting position carefully. The last thing he wanted was to fall off his branch.

“It can, but these monsters need more than one hit to take down,” Alice complained. “They’re tougher than I’d like them to be. And if I throw the knife, I’ve lost it. You have no idea how many times I’ve wished I could throw it, then have it magically reappear in my hand. . . .”

Victor nodded, then spotted two figures approaching the scene of the failed picnic – one clearly wearing an oversized hat. “Hey! Richard and Christopher are coming back!”

“Do you think _they_ can fight the Jabberspawn?” Emily asked Alice.

“Maybe,” Alice said. “Richard _usually_ keeps at least one cup of explosive tea in-hat, and I’m sure Christopher has something on him somewhere. . . .”

Richard and Christopher stopped as they came within sight of their friends in the tree and the Jabberspawn prowling around. “Well, this certainly won’t do,” Richard said, hands on hips.

Christopher, however, grinned excitedly. “Aha! A perfect opportunity to test my latest invention!” He rummaged around in his pack, as the Jabberspawn turned toward them and began evaluating them as prey. He eventually extracted a tiny squeeze-bulb horn. “Everyone, cover your ears!” he yelled as he held it up in the Jabberspawn’s direction.

Victor promptly did so – if he had learned one thing in his time here, it was that when a Touched told you to do something, you did it. The girls and Richard followed suit. After a moment’s check to make sure everyone’s hearing was protected, Christopher squeezed the horn.

**AAAARRRROOOOOUUUUGGHHAAAA!**

Even with his ears covered, the sound sliced through Victor’s head. He yelped and teetered on his branch, latching a hand onto the rough bark to steady himself. All around, his other friends winced and hissed in similar pain. Fortunately, the sound had the exact same effect on the Jabberspawn, who cried out and immediately bolted. “What _was_ that?” Victor asked as soon as it was safe.

“I haven’t named it yet, but it seems to work perfectly,” Christopher said proudly, pocketing the horn. “Certainly much better than when I tried it in my house. Took out all the windows then.”

Victor's stomach dropped. Reaching up, he felt his goggles. Sure enough – “You may still want to consider tweaking the design,” he said, pulling them off and holding them up to reveal the shattered lenses.

Christopher stared for a moment, then blushed, embarrassed. “Oh dear. I’ll buy you a new pair.”

“You ought to label that thing ‘Squeeze me gently,’” Richard commented as he helped Emily out of the tree.

Christopher chuckled as he went to assist Victoria – then got a thoughtful look on his face. “Hmmm. . . .”


	21. Empty House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending off the Winter Bingo Card Two prompts with one that gave me a bit of trouble -- _"cabin."_ I had to ponder for a bit before I came up with what I thought was a good idea. Sadly, the nature of said idea means we're leaving this card on an angsty note. Poor Victor and his guilt issues. It does have a semi-hopeful ending, though.

It was just – far too _quiet_ in Looking-Glass House these days.

Victor's footsteps echoed in the silence of the main foyer as he walked in the front door. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it. A tiny part of him always expected Lewis to pop up out of nowhere once he entered the house, greeting him warmly and telling him all about the latest wonders for Wonderland. And that same part of him ached every time he remembered that that would never happen again.

He headed down the main hall, checking each room in turn. _At least we managed to restore the house itself,_ he thought with a shake of his head. Wonderland Park, although recovering nicely, would never be the same as it was. But Looking-Glass House was in pristine condition. The card and chess people strenuously kept up with its upkeep, and Victor and Alice and all of Lewis’s other friends did whatever they could to help. They felt they owed it to the poor man who’d been the first victim of the Queen of Hearts – even if he was also the one responsible for her existence.

Or, at least, the one everyone considered responsible for her existence. Victor winced as the guilt that never quite went away sliced through him. He knew it was irrational, but he still felt in some way to blame for Lewis’s death. Didn’t it stand to reason that, if he’d never chosen to start a relationship with Alice, the Queen never would have existed? He didn’t want to think of a life without his beloved girlfriend, but was it really worth it to know that his love for her had sparked a bout of jealousy in their friend that had led directly to Lewis’s death? Victor had tried to make amends, at least in his own mind, by diving into the restoration of the park, but still. . .he couldn’t help but wonder if it really made any difference. Lewis was dead, beyond even the reach of the reanimators. There was no way to bring him back, no way to truly apologize.

A soft brush of wings against Victor’s hand made him look down. Resting on his thumb was a little bread-and-butterfly. Most of them had been killed during the Queen’s brief but eventful rise, but a few had managed through sheer good luck to survive. It looked up at him with sugary white eyes, as if it knew the thoughts going through his head. Then it took to the air again, making a circle around him before flitting off to a different room.

Victor watched it go, an odd sense of comfort washing over him. The little butterfly had served as a reminder that things weren’t as bad as they seemed. Yes, Lewis’s mortal shell was dead. But Victor knew that, so long as Wonderland Park lived on, so too would his friend’s spirit. With a sad smile, he entered the laboratory and got to work.


	22. Warm Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto Winter Bingo Card Three now, and the first of its prompts, _"toasty!"_ Now, semi-horrible person that I am, I initially considered a much darker fic involving the house burning down (with everyone escaping safely, of course -- _semi_ -horrible). This sweeter family scene which touches on Alice's pyrophobia more gently won out rather quickly, though -- much to my character's relief, I'm sure. Poor Alice -- recovery is tough sometimes. At least she has a loving family to help her through.

“We should have marshmallows!”

“Oh, we should, should we?” Victor said, grinning at Vincent as they sat around the fire.

“Yes,” Vincent nodded. “Then we could toast them and eat them.”

“Maybe next time,” Victor said, licking his lips as he imagined it.

“You ever think of making a marshmallow butterfly, Daddy?” Lorina asked, tilting her head.

Victor shook his head. “Too sticky. It took me long enough to find a way to make peanut-butterflies that wouldn’t automatically get their wings stuck together. And if I make them out of solid marshmallow, there’s a good chance they’d melt in the first rainstorm.”

“Too bad,” Chester said, warming his hands on the fire. “They sound fun.”

“Even mad science has its limits, I’m afraid.”

Chester nodded, then glanced back at where his mother was sitting in her chair, reading a book. “Don’t you want to join us, Mum?”

Alice looked up. “I’m fine,” she said evenly. “And you’re sitting far too close. Scoot back a bit.”

Chester frowned, but did as he was told. “I didn’t think I was sitting too close,” he murmured.

“Trust me, you were,” Alice informed him. “You never know when something–” She stopped, then shook her head. “You just always need to be careful around open flame.”

“But it’s so warm over here!” Vincent got up and wandered over to his mother, feeling her hand. “And you’re all cold!”

Alice looked from him to the fire. She did her best to keep her expression neutral, but Victor could see the flickers of fear in her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, voice a bit distant.

Victor frowned. He really wished there was more he could do for her phobias. He’d done his best to assure her, time and again, that he (and later the children) weren’t going anywhere. But, much like he’d probably always feel a bit guilty about the death of Lewis Carroll, there was probably no way to stop her from worrying that fire was going to claim her family once again. Which led to nights like these, where she froze while the rest of the family enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace. . . .

Then, suddenly, an idea came to him. “Vincent, why don’t you sit on Mum’s lap to warm her up?” he suggested.

“Would you like that, Mum?” Vincent said, looking up at her. “I’m all toasty.”

Alice grinned back down at him. “I’d like that very much,” she said, moving her book so he could climb on.

Vincent happily got up and snuggled into his mother. Alice hugged him back, then looked over at Victor gratefully. Victor gave her a smile, then mouthed the words, “We’re not going anywhere,” to her.

And for the first time, it looked like Alice really believed him.


	23. Beating The Odds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto the next Winter Bingo Card Three prompt, _"old!_ " Which is just a short thing about Victor in his old age, being mildly surprised he got there. Hey, in most of the mad science fiction I read, mad scientists tend to meet premature ends. . .

Most Touched didn’t live to a particularly old age. Everyone knew that. It was far more likely with those Somewhat and Severely Touched, but even those only Slightly Touched were at risk to suffer a premature death, whether from an experiment gone wrong (or right in the worst possible way) or from an angry mob. A Touched’s life span simply wasn’t the same as a Regular person’s.

Victor had known this long before coming to Secundus. After he went a bit Creative, he mentally prepared himself for the idea that he might not live to see old age. He wasn’t the type to fiddle around with dangerous Inventions usually, but he always knew there was the possibility of something going very wrong and ending his life early. He updated his will regularly, made sure his wife (and when they were born, his children) would be safe in case of any emergency, and generally did his best to find the good in each day. After all, each one had the potential of being his last. He was determined to enjoy whatever life he had to the fullest.

_Which is probably the reason why I’m around to see my 85th birthday,_ he reflected with a chuckle as his son Vincent served up the cake to the various friends and family attending the celebration. _Well – that and the fact I don’t think I could ever miss a slice of the March Hare’s cake._


	24. Middle Child Syndrome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on the list for Winter Bingo Card Three is the rather more negative prompt _"naughty list."_ For this one, I decided to focus on Victor and Alice's son Vincent, as at the time I'd noticed I'd been writing a lot of shorts featuring his older brother Chester or his twin sister Lorina, and I worried Vincent was ending up kind of neglected. The title I got from TV Tropes -- it's a trope about how middle children can feel neglected because they aren't the oldest or the youngest (or, in Vincent's case here, the oldest or the girl). It felt appropriate.

“It’s not fair.”

“Oh, I don't know about that,” Victor retorted, glancing over at his son in the corner. “You ran again in the house after repeated warnings, and ended up breaking two plates and a glass when you collided with your mother. Having to sit in the corner for an hour sounds plenty fair to me.”

“I helped Mum clean it up,” Vincent groused, slouched over on himself.

“Because you wanted to, or because she told you to?” No reply. “Complaining to yourself isn’t going to shorten your sentence.”

Vincent was silent. Victor sighed. He hated playing jailer – being the disciplinarian wasn’t one of his strong points. But Alice was busy with supper, and their maid had knocked off for the day, meaning he was the adult available to ensure the punishment was served. _At least I can work on my notes while I wait,_ he thought, turning back to his desk.

“. . .you just love Chester and Lorina more.”

Victor’s head snapped back up. “What?”

“Chester’s the oldest, and Lorina’s the girl,” Vincent elaborated, sniffling. “You like them better than me.”

Victor's heart twisted like it had received a jab from a red-hot knife. “Oh, Vincent. . . .” He got up and crossed the room to kneel down by his son. “That’s not true at all.”

“Is so.”

“Is _not_ ,” Victor countered firmly. He gathered Vincent into his arms. “Mum and I love you all equally. Chester may be the oldest, and Lorina may be the girl, but you’re our beloved little boy. You're as special as they are. And nothing will ever change that.” He gave Vincent a squeeze. “Besides, you’ve seen how much trouble your brother and sister get into. Everybody ends up in this chair sooner or later.”

Vincent let out a watery laugh. “Don’t ever think we don’t love you, Vincent," Victor pressed. "You are an important part of this family. I'm sorry if we ever made you feel different. We'll try harder to include you in the future."

“Thanks, Dad,” Vincent replied softly. He returned Victor's hug. “I love you too. But how much longer do I have to sit here?”

Victor checked his watch. “Half an hour,” he reported. Vincent sighed. “I don’t like it any more than you do, if it helps.”

“Then tell Mum to stop punishing you.”

Victor laughed. “We’ll survive," he said, tousling Vincent's hair. "And if you promise to sit quietly for the next twenty minutes, I'll let you off a little early for good behavior.”


	25. The New Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next prompt in line from Winter Bingo Card Three is _"birth!"_ And, naturally, there was only one story I could do for that -- the birth of Victor and Alice's first child, Chester! I'd had the scene in my head for a while now, so it was nice to get it out. I actually ended up doing this exact same moment from Victor's perspective as part of the last chapter of "Secundus 2: Weird Weird West" -- since this came earlier, there might be a few differences between this version and the "final" one in that story. I did my best to stick pretty close, at least in terms of dialogue.

Alice looked down at the tiny bundle in her arms. Two green eyes stared back up at her from a pale little face. Well, a bit more blue-green just at the moment - the doctor had assured her that they'd change over to fully green before his first birthday, though. Alice was glad, to tell the truth – his eye color was about the only thing her son seemed to have taken from her (or would take, more accurately). In every other respect, he was a Van Dort, just like his father. Not that she minded, since she liked his father, but. . .

Movement at the door caught her attention, and she looked up to see Victor standing there, watching her with a mix of deep nervousness and joy. Such a far cry from the last time she'd seen him, marching into the room with fire in his eyes, demanding to know just what was going on – only to actually _see_ what was going on and faint dead away. It had been a much-needed laugh during the whole painful business. She resisted the urge to thank him for it, however. She doubted he’d appreciate it. “They t-told me I could c-come in,” he said, lingering in the doorway, hands on his tie.

Alice nodded, then beckoned him closer with a jerk of her head. “Come meet your new son.”

Victor hesitated a moment, then came to the side of the bed and crouched down. His already large eyes widened as he took in the baby. “Goodness, he’s – he’s so small,” he murmured.

"The nurse said so too," Alice admitted, adjusting her grip on the blankets. “He didn’t feel that way coming out, certainly."

Victor went bright red. “I’m s-sorry for – i-interrupting like that,” he said, pulling at his tie. “I just h-heard you scream and–”

"It's fine," Alice cut in, hiding a wince. She didn’t blame Victor at all for his sudden intrusion – she knew better than anyone that the best way to set him off was to see or hear her in pain. She’d tried to keep her mouth shut, she really had, but the sheer agony of the process had gotten the best of her near the end. And then he'd marched in, only to collapse like a puppet with its strings cut. . .worry spiking up within her, she added, “Are _you_ all right? Did you hit your head when–”

“N-no, I - Dr. Lawn didn't t-think I'd hurt myself,” Victor assured her, blushing harder. “Just - w-when I saw that, I – y-you–”

“Let’s not talk about it,” Alice cut him off. "It wasn't any more fun from this end." Honestly, she would be fine forgetting everything about the past painful, messy, disgusting few hours herself. Her memories could skip straight to that happy moment after everything had been cleaned up and the midwife had shown her how to hold her child.

Victor happily dropped the subject and turned his attention back to their child. “He’s so pale as well,” he commented.

“A Van Dort through and through,” Alice agreed. “Look, he even has your black hair.”

"I noticed," Victor said, nodding at the few minuscule wisps on the top of the boy’s head. He stared for a bit more, then sighed. “I’m still terribly nervous,” he whispered.

Ah yes, this again. Not long into her pregnancy, Victor had confessed that he wasn’t sure if he was father material. Not only was he the naturally clumsy and nervous type, there was also the fact he was a Touched to consider. He'd been absolutely terrified he would hurt the baby. Alice had done her best to quell his fears, as had all their friends, but - she could understand his still being worried. There was still a part of her brain that argued against her being mother material. “I’m a little overwhelmed myself,” she told him. “But I know we’ll both do the best we can for him. I’m never one to back down from a challenge, and neither are you.”

Victor smiled at her. “He’s a challenge now, hmm?”

“Well, what with him probably going to have us up at all hours of the night, and having to figure out why he’s crying, and changing dirty diapers. . . .” Alice smiled lovingly down at their baby. “But he’s _our_ challenge.”

Victor reached out and lightly stroked the baby’s cheek, causing him to try and nurse the finger. Victor chuckled. “Yes. Ours,” he agreed, putting his free arm around her.


	26. Be A Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next on our prompt list from Winter Bingo Card three is _"coming of age!"_ I'd been watching a _lot_ of "Say Yes To The Dress" while working out at the time, and thus I was in a wedding mood. So, I decided to try and relate the prompt to Victor and Alice getting married at the end of "Secundus." After a bit of thought, the idea of "Victor doesn't feel ready to get married before Secundus, but he does after because of his experiences there" popped up. It took a few rewrites for me to get down _exactly_ what I wanted to say, but I feel the end product was worth it. (Probably helped that, at the time of original writing, I sympathized with his "not quite feeling adult" status at the beginning of the short -- 24 years old and still living with your parents while attending community college will do that.) And yes, the _Mulan_ song inspired the title.

When his parents told him that he was going to marry Miss Victoria Everglot in January, Victor’s first reaction was panic. Married? How on earth could his parents expect him to get married? He was only nineteen! Yes, all right, that technically qualified him for “manhood,” whatever that might be. He was certainly no longer a child. But – but he didn’t _feel_ like a real adult yet either. He’d never held a job, never paid a bill – he was still living with his parents, for God’s sake! Not to mention he’d never even had a girlfriend. He wasn't _opposed_ to the idea, but - girls made him nervous, frankly. How could Mother and Father expect him to go from that to supporting a wife? His frightened protests that he wasn’t ready went unheard however, and Victor spent the next few weeks alternately hoping that the wedding would make him feel more grown up, and dreading what would happen if it didn’t.

Then Doc Brown and his flying steam train appeared on the scene, and Victor was whisked away to Secundus. At first, he saw it as merely a chance to have an adventure and avoid the terrifying specter of arranged marriage. But as time went on, he began to see it more as an opportunity to live his own life and perhaps start growing up for real. He had a job – a simple one, but it was still a job. He was responsible for anything he wanted to buy, having to pay his own way (more or less) in the world. And, as time passed, he even got his first girlfriend in the form of Alice Liddell. Feeling better about this whole business of becoming an adult, Victor started to make plans for the future – perhaps finding a flat of his own one day, or taking his turn at creating something fantastic like his Touched friends. And he made a promise to himself to try and experience everything the city had to offer.

Of course, he ended up experiencing quite a bit more than he’d expected. Going a bit Creative, defeating the Queen of Hearts, and pulling the shattered remains of his sanity back from the brink of oblivion - it was all more than he'd ever thought he could handle. But handle it he did, and when it was over, the change inside was unmistakable. He felt stronger. More mature. More – adult. So, shortly after he turned twenty, he decided he was ready for what had scared him so much when he was nineteen.

And as he kissed Alice in the First Church of Steam, in front of their cheering family and friends, he truly felt like a man.


	27. Equals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto the next Winter Bingo Card Three prompt, _"wise men!"_ Obviously, the first thing I thought of when I saw that prompt was the existence of Touched in the Secundus world. . .and then I remembered how, in Chapter 5 of "Secundus," Victor thought to himself how inadequate he felt talking about science with Doc and Richard and the rest. I figured that it was an idea worth exploring a bit more, especially in the aftermath of how the main story ended. Plus it was a chance to use Doc in one of these shorts -- can't pass up the opportunity to write one of my favorite characters. :)

“I used to feel a bit inadequate around you sometimes.”

Doc looked up in surprise. Victor was leaning over the case of the Deep-Thinking Mind-Reading Helmet (Work in Progress), pink with embarrassment and not meeting his eyes. “You did?” Doc replied, frowning. This was a rather unpleasant confession for Victor to make. “I always did my best to treat you as an equal.”

“I know – it wasn’t anything to do with you, really,” Victor assured him. “I felt the same around Richard and Sir Christopher and – L-Lewis. Anyone who was Touched, a-actually.”

Doc straightened up, deciding his maintenance on the main console's wiring wasn’t quite as important as this conversation. “Why?”

Victor offered up an awkward half-smile, blushing harder. “Because - because I thought I could never match up to you in intelligence. Do you remember the first tea party of Richard and March’s that I attended? When the conversation started to veer toward my interest in butterflies, I immediately wondered what right I had to talk science with you and the others. After all, I was nothing more than a hobbyist entomologist.”

“That wouldn’t have made a difference to us,” Doc told him firmly. “We love talking science no matter the skill level. And it’s not like many of us have all that much formal experience. I know for a fact Richard never attended university.”

“I know, I just – you must know I have a bit of a p-problem when it comes to self-esteem,” Victor mumbled, gaze on the floor.

Doc scowled as various unpleasant memories involving Victor’s parents popped into his head. “I do indeed.” Pushing the dark thoughts away, he regarded his friend curiously. “Why bring this up now?”

“Well – it just occurred to me that, if you’d asked my younger self if he’d ever feel like the mental equal of any of my Touched friends, he probably would have burst out laughing.”

Doc smiled. “Is he happy to have been proven wrong?”

Victor lifted his head and grinned back, looking ever-so-slightly _mad_. “I believe he is.” 


	28. Out-Stubborning Nell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto our next Winter Bingo Card Three prompt -- _"donkey!"_ I was a bit stuck on what to do for this one at first -- and then the phrase "stubborn as a mule" popped into my head, along with the fact that Victor and Nell are both super-stubborn about getting their way during the latter half of "Secundus," and I decided "donkey" was close enough. You can probably tell by this point (especially if you're read my other AUs) that I am not fond of Victor's parents, particularly Nell. Anyone who asks what corpse would marry her son in the tone she used in the movie is on my fictional character shit list.

_BANG!_

The momentary satisfaction Victor got from slamming the door was immediately undercut by guilt as four heads popped out from the aisles, clearly wondering what the hell was going on. “Sorry,” he called out in apology. "That was r-rude of me."

The customers muttered to themselves and went back to their business. Marty frowned at him from behind the counter. “Okay, that’s not like you,” he noted. “What happened? You were all smiles when you went out.”

“ _Mother,_ ” Victor groaned, pressing his hands against his face. “I bumped into her and Father on the street halfway to the pie shop, and before I could say a word she launched into another lecture about the 'shame I’m bringing to our family name' by 'associating with the twisted classes' and if I didn't agree to come home right away. . .and there was Father, next to her, nodding along like a puppet on a string. . . .”

Marty shook his head. “She just does _not_ give up, does she? I’ve met donkeys less stubborn than her. And I lived in California – I knew my fair share of donkeys.”

“She’s always been very – determined,” Victor said, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve seen her like this before. She knows what she wants, and she won’t rest until she gets it.” He groaned. “Maybe I _should_ act like I’m brainwashed. Perhaps she'll come to the conclusion I can’t be ‘fixed’ then and leave me alone.”

“I dunno, Victor,” Marty said, leaning on the counter. “I don’t think this is gonna end until you finally cave or one of you dies.”

Victor couldn’t help but nod. “She thinks I’ll give in,” he admitted softly. “It’s what I’ve done before, with every party and fad. I hate confrontation, and I especially hate making her upset. It would certainly be easier to give in.”

“But you’re not, right?” Marty asked, a worried note in his voice.

" _No_ ," Victor promised, stiffening his spine. “This is different. I’m tired of never standing up for what I want, and this – this is more important than anything before.” Trying to sound hopeful, he added, “And if I’ve held out this long, it’s obvious I’ve inherited at least a little of her stubbornness.”

Marty nodded. “Yeah. Let’s just hope you got enough.”


	29. Slipping And A’Sliding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto the next-to-last prompt of Winter Bingo Card Three -- _"black ice!"_ Now, most of us know this as the horrible thing that causes car crashes in winter, and thus my initial thought was a rather darker fic that involved a carriage accident. But then I decided I'd had enough of the angst with Card Two, and decided to go with a comedic piece instead. The inspiration for the new fic was twofold -- one of my RP Victors trying to rescue a friend from some ice, only to slip and fall himself; and one of Alice's idle animations with the Ice Wand in _American McGee's Alice_ being freezing the ground in front of her, then stepping on it and slipping. It seemed a reasonable thing to happen on a cold day in Secundus. The title I'm pretty sure was inspired by a Swiffer Sweeper commercial, though I can't be sure. It felt right at any rate. Also, just to clarify, this is _before_ Victor and Alice start dating in the main story.

“Now then, what would you – _whoa_!”

Out of nowhere, Victor found the left side of his body trying to go in a different direction from his right. He scrambled to keep his feet, practically tap-dancing as his shoes slipped and slid all over the place. A glance down revealed he’d managed to step on a patch of nearly invisible ice. “Oh! Oh dear – aah!”

“Victor!” Alice grabbed his arm in an attempt to steady him. “Stand still – if you can, that is. . .maybe you should lift that foot–aaah!”

The moment she said it, said foot shot out from under him, pulling him – and thus Alice – to the ground. They landed in a tangled heap, Alice on top. “Oh! I am s-so sorry,” Victor gasped, embarrassed beyond belief. “Are y-you all right?”

“Fine,” Alice assured him, pushing herself up to take a better look at him. Victor found himself vaguely grateful he’d been there to cushion her fall. “This is far from the worst tumble I’ve taken. Are _you_ all right?”

“I think so.” Victor did his best to ignore the warmth of her body against his and did a quick check. “My l-leg hurts a bit, but it’s d-definitely not broken.”

“Just landed on it wrong? I’m not surprised,” Alice said. “Still, could have been much worse." She slid herself off him, scooting her way back to the cobbles. "Here, let’s get ourselves up.”

Victor unknotted his legs from hers and followed suit. Once they were safely back on the stone, he pulled himself up with the help of a nearby lamppost before offering his hand to Alice, cheeks burning. Why did these things have to happen to him? Especially when he was out with a gi – a friend? “I _am_ sorry about that,” he apologized as Alice hoisted herself up and fixed her skirts. “I g-genuinely d-didn’t see that ice.”

“It’s fine," Alice assured him. "Accidents happen.” 

“S-still. . ." Victor sighed, dusting off his pants. "I just wish I weren’t so clumsy.”

“Oh, everyone’s clumsy on the ice.” Alice looked up at him, smiling. “Let me tell you about the first time I tried out the Ice Wand. . . .”


	30. Made In Their Image

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the last prompt of Winter Bingo Card Three is -- _"glowing!"_ Which, of course, is about those glowing butterflies that haunted Victor's dreams, triggered his Going Creative, and became one of his first Inventions as a Touched. It took me a day or two to figure out what exactly I wanted to say in response to the prompt, but I think it came together nicely in the end. The Essex Skipper and Duke of Burgundy are real species of European butterfly – don't you just love the names they give these creatures? :)

Victor Van Dort loved butterflies, there was no question about that. He adored every single type, from the Essex Skipper to the Duke of Burgundy, from the most colorful specimen to the most drab. He could find something beautiful and wonderful in any species from _Lepidoptera_.

His affection was expressed in a number of different ways throughout the years. As a small child, he chased them through the garden, fascinated by their pretty colors and fluttering flight. As an adolescent, he studied them in his room, devouring book after book on the subject and drawing his own scientific illustrations from captured specimens. As a young man, he envied them from behind windows, wishing he could share in their freedom and dreaming of a world where he could trade a career in fish for one in lepidoptery. And as a Touched. . . .

Well, as a Touched, he set up a lab and made his _own_ butterflies to love. Bread-and-butterflies released into the reconstructed Wonderland Park; clockwork butterflies tested in Doc's shop; Ferdinand the giant riding butterfly trained to carry him swiftly through Secundus's skies - Victor Created and adored them all.

But, even with all those fantastic creatures to his credit, if asked what his favorite type of butterfly was, he would always reply with the same thing – the results of his very first project after gaining a hold on the madness. Just one simple variation on the basic design. After all, he'd explain, they were technically the creatures that had ushered him, slowly but surely, into the realms of Touched-dom. He owed them a debt of gratitude.

And besides, glowing butterflies looked _beautiful_ against the night sky.


	31. From An Interview With Mr. Victor Van Dort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we move onto Charloft's Winter Bingo Card Four! Starting with the prompt -- uh -- _"glowing."_ Yeaaaah, when I got my card for my second year in the community and decided to fill in all the spaces instead of just going for a column or row, I completely forgot I'd already done that prompt last year. And, of course, my first thought was to do something about the famous glowing butterflies. Ooops.
> 
> Fortunately for us all, this story ended up significantly different from the previous "glowing" short -- in fact, you might say it functions as something of a sequel, expanding up on the ending of the first one. For this story, I had the idea of framing it as an excerpt from an interview between a reporter from an entomological journal and Victor, once he'd become an established Touched. (Victor, who'd only ever dreamed of one of his drawings maybe appearing in such a publication, was over the moon about it.) I figured the reporter would ask about the glowing butterflies, and -- well, this is Victor's answer!

“Now, Mr. Van Dort, anyone who’s seen your creations in person knows you’ve got a fascination with bioluminescence. In fact, after your riding butterfly, your most famous Fabricated creatures are the glowing butterflies currently populating Wonderland Park. Why is that, exactly?”

“Well, it's very simple, honestly – those glowing butterflies were my first indication that I was a Touched.”

“Oh? How so? By all accounts, you Fabricated them _after_ Going Creative.”

“Yes, but I'd seen them long before then. You see, when I first arrived in Secundus, I started having this one strange recurring dream. I'd start out standing in a dark void, wondering why I was there, waiting for something to happen. And then, suddenly, it would fill with these glowing butterflies - the most beautiful butterflies in the world. I'd spend the whole night chasing after them, trying to catch one – and always, I’d wake up before I could. It was - heh, _frustrating_ to say the least. And then, the night before the Queen attacked and I Went Creative in Lewis's old lab, I had the dream one last time - except this time, I finally got my hands around one. And then. . .it was simply incredible. It was like, for one golden moment, I knew everything in the world. And then I woke up and forgot it all again, but. . .looking back, I think I can see how, the closer I came to my final breakthrough, the more often the dreams came and the longer they lasted. Maybe – maybe it was my mind readying itself for what was to come.”

“And that’s why you like making things that glow.”

“Oh, yes. I can’t help myself. Being able to see them light up the sky in reality. . .it’s amazing. And now, I get to catch them whenever I want.” 


	32. They Lie To You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now onto non-repeat Card Four prompts, with _"toast!"_ Which promptly made me think of one of Eddie Izzard's famous bits, about how toasters lie to you regarding bread doneness. (I recommend looking it up on YouTube, it's great.) I imagine that, even in a world full of mechanical marvels, getting a decent toaster would sometimes be a pain. Should have just asked Doc for another like his, Victor!

“I don’t understand this! I thought electric toasters were supposed to make life _easier_!”

“I think you’ve been spoiled by Doc’s homemade version,” Alice said, watching her husband glare at the appliance in question. “These mass-produced ones aren’t made with the same care.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Victor grumbled, examining his underdone toast. “Either it comes out like this, barely brown at all, or it's charred almost to cinders. Doc’s sometimes had burnt bits, yes, but you could just scrape those off. Otherwise, it was more or less what you wanted.” He sighed. “Sometimes I think they _deliberately_ design them this way, so people will think they’re broken and buy new ones.”

“But they wouldn't go back to the same manufacturer - not if they believe they sell lousy appliances,” Alice pointed out. “Do you think all toaster companies are in league with one another?”

“. . .Yes. Yes I do. Perhaps I’ll go and fill all their offices with bread-and butterflies. Or peanut-butterflies, those will stick to things and be even more of a nuisance.”

“I think it’s a better idea for you to just have some cereal for breakfast.”


	33. Defrosting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving on to the next Winter Bingo Card Four prompt, _"ice princess!"_ The instant I saw that prompt, I knew I had to do something about Alice. The basic idea (and the inspiration behind the title) comes from the trope (on TV Tropes) "Defrosting Ice Princess," about a girl who initially seems cold and unapproachable, but who gradually warms up as you get to know her. It struck me that fit how Alice might look to those who only know her by reputation – cold and only good for killing monsters. But if you're one of her friends. . .or the young newcomer who's developed quite a crush on her. . .

To the average citizen on the street, Alice Liddell was cold. A necessary part of the city's functioning, of course, but not someone they would care to deal with socially. She seemed to disdain most forms of love and companionship, preferring instead to deal with others through biting sarcasm and withering glances. She was a girl whose life revolved around death, madness, weaponry, and killing. A girl who’d lost everything and thus had decided to seal off her heart in ice.

To Victor Van Dort, however, she was quite different. He looked past the outer layer of frost, the pointed comments and the knife constantly at her side, and found a girl who _was_ capable of getting close to others - and of worrying awfully that she might lose them. A girl who was uneasy around strangers, all too aware her reputation - either as asylum resident or monster hunter - preceded her. A girl who had been hurt terribly, and now was wary enough of future pain that she tried preemptively to close it out. A girl who, despite everything, still wanted to help others, in the best way she knew how. A girl who, really, wasn’t all that different from him.

In fact, he discovered, when you took the time to get to know her, you’d find that under that cold exterior – she was actually quite warm. 


	34. Ice Princess No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skipping around a little on Winter Bingo Card Four this week so we can have the matching prompt to last week's entry, "ice princess" -- _"melt!"_ Basically, the first one was Victor's take on how Alice is not nearly the ice princess some people can make her out to be; this one is Alice's take on how Victor somehow slips past her defenses and makes the icier parts of her personality -- well, look at the prompt. Examining Victor through Alice's eyes is always rather fun, honestly. She never quite gets how he can be the one who makes her go weak at the knees. But she doesn't mind because he's such a sweetheart.

What _was_ it about him that got past all her defenses?

Alice wondered this every time she looked at Victor Van Dort. When she'd first met him, she hadn't thought he was anyone special. Quite tall, shockingly pale, and incredibly thin, of course, but you got used to odd physical features in Secundus. And when she'd taken him and Marty to Richard's hat shop, he'd been like any other tourist, for the most part - gawking at everything around him, starting at the least little thing, and stuttering and stammering his way through conversation. Not to mention his tendency to act as if he had to apologize for merely existing. He'd been friendly enough, but Alice had quietly decided he wasn't going to last a week in the city, new job or no.

But - he'd surprised her. He'd stuck it out, despite his obvious nerves. And with every subsequent meeting, she began to see more and more beneath his colorless shell. He was gentle, with a fondness for butterflies and flowers that many men she'd known in the past would never admit to. He was polite, unassuming, and unprejudiced - willing to give anyone, from the average Touched on the street to a young lady who'd spent a good portion of her life in bedlam, a chance to be friends. He was enthusiastic - full of a lust for color, for excitement, for _life_ that seemed only to grow stronger the longer he was in Secundus. And he was - cute, if she was completely honest with herself. With his thick black hair and wide brown eyes and shy little smile that, more and more, seemed to come out around her. . . .

Alice couldn't pinpoint just what it was about him that affected her so strongly. All she knew was, whenever he was around, the ice she’d tried to encase herself in – just seemed to melt.


	35. Perhaps It’s A TempraPedic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto another Winter Bingo Card Four prompt, _"cozy!"_ I sympathize greatly with Alice's desire to just not get out of bed some days. :p The title mentions a famous brand of mattress (here in the US, anyway) that's supposed to be super-comfy, and the bit about the bedpan is a reference to a memory you can recover in "Madness Returns" (it's one of the Pris Witless ones, natch, hidden away in Hatter's Domain). Also, yes, one of the names for a group of butterflies is indeed "kaleidoscope" - isn't that cool?

“Come on, Alice, it’s time to get up.”

Alice glanced up at Victor, then wriggled deeper into the covers instead. “Sorry - this new mattress is entirely too comfortable," she announced. "I’m never getting up again.”

“Never?” Victor repeated, looking down at his cocooned wife.

“Never ever,” Alice nodded. “I like it here.”

“What about eating?”

“You can bring in food for me. Or maybe make a kaleidoscope of butterflies to do so. I’m sure you could manage.”

“I probably could. . .but what about–" Victor wiggled a hand "-bodily functions?”

“That’s what bedpans are for. As Witless the night nurse once told me quite emphatically.”

“. . .I really didn’t need to know that,” Victor grimaced. “But you truly can’t stay in bed forever.”

“Oh?" Alice fixed him with a steely gaze - though it was rather undercut by the smile playing around her lips. "What’s stopping me?”

_"Waaaaaaaah!!!"_

Both their heads automatically twisted toward the nursery door. Victor listened as the wail repeated itself, then smirked playfully at Alice. “You try explaining to _him_ why Mama wants to stay in bed all day.”


	36. Ink Blots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto our next Winter Bingo Card Four prompt -- _lines!_ Just a quick and dirty shortfic about Victor's drawing skills and his chosen medium. I figure it's pretty hard draw in ink when you don't make pencil sketches first. Victor's probably gotten _very_ good at hiding mistakes.

“I’ve always admired how well you draw with a pen.”

Victor looked up to find Alice watching him over his shoulder. “It’s really nothing special,” he said modestly. “Your pencil drawings are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Yes, but there’s a reason I draw in pencil - so I can erase should I make a mistake,” Alice replied. “And my lines are never as clean and crisp as yours because of it. How do you manage to draw as well as you do when you go straight from imagining to ink?”

“Lots of practice,” Victor said, dipping his quill into the inkwell again and continuing with his sketch. “And knowing how to disguise _my_ mistakes.”

“You make mistakes?”

“Let me put it this way – that cloud in the corner didn’t start as a cloud.”


	37. I Thought I’d Lost You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on Winter Bingo Card Four -- _"icy roads!"_ Now, remember how I mentioned back on the _"black ice"_ prompt that I was tempted to write something dark involving a carriage accident for that one? Yeah, this is the prompt where I ended up using that idea. In fairness, there's not many ways you can put a _positive_ spin on _"icy roads!"_ For context, they're coming back from a long trip outside of Secundus (I'm thinking maybe Victor was showing off some butterflies somewhere), when the weather starts getting bad, and then -- _crash!_ The title's from the end credits song from the movie _Bolt_ \-- what, I'd seen it recently, it was stuck in my head, and it seemed to fit. (And don't worry -- they get rescued shortly after this.)

“Ow. . .”

Victor dragged himself up to a sitting position, putting a hand to his head. "Well, that wasn't good," he mumbled, blinking slowly as he got his bearings. Wetness pooled against his palm, and he lowered it to find it tinged with red. He winced and wiped it off in the snow. “Oh damn - and neither is that."

He looked around slowly and carefully. The carriage was a battered mess -- tipped over on the side of the road, with their baggage scattered around it. One suitcase had burst open and spilled its contents all along the small slope - Victor picked up a nearby sock and pressed it against his forehead for a makeshift bandage. One horse of their pair was standing nearby, sporting a cut on its flank – the other was nowhere to be seen. _Maybe it broke loose after we hit that icy patch?_ Victor thought, easing himself to his feet. _Ow. . .so_ _much for Dr. Carter’s non-slip wheels–_

And then he saw Alice. Lying still in a snowbank not far away.

The sock dropped out of his hand as his whole body went numb. _No. No. Oh no no no no -_ He scrambled over the drifts, heedless of the blood leaking into his eyes, of the cold biting at his exposed flesh. _I can’t – she can’t be – Oh God, don’t do this to me. You know what’ll happen if she dies, especially like this–_

And then, as he leaned over her, desperately scanning her form for any sign of life, her eyes opened. “Argh. . .I thought these – Victor!”

She sat up like a jack-in-the box, grabbing his head. “Damn it, you’re bleeding! What happened?”

“I think you know as much as I do,” Victor said, sighing as the relief washed over him like a wave. _Thank you thank you thank you. . . ._ He ran his hands up and down her sides, searching for injuries. She didn’t seem to have any broken bones, at least. “The road was icy, the carriage went out of control–” He pointed back at the overturned vehicle. “And now, here we are.”

“Ugh, you’d think – stop poking me, I’m just bruised,” Alice told him, gently swatting his hand. “The snow must have cushioned my fall. It’s your head that I’m worried about. I know forehead wounds bleed like the dickens without being serious, but still. . .follow my finger, let’s make sure your brains aren’t scrambled any further.”

“I think it’s just a cut,” Victor said, though he did as she asked. “We can grab something out of the luggage to cover it. And hopefully use the horse to get back to civilization.” He abandoned his prodding to instead hug her tightly. “I’m just glad you’re all right. When I saw you lying there. . . .”

Alice hugged him back, then kissed his (non-bloody) temple. “Victor, it would take a lot more than a carriage accident to separate me from you.”


	38. Pyrophobia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on Winter Bingo Card Four -- _" by the fire!"_ This immediately made me think of Alice's issues with fire thanks to, well, losing her entire family when her house burned down, and how Victor might perhaps go a bit overboard sometimes trying to be sensitive of them. Poor guy's just trying to be a good husband. . . It kind of straddles the line between serious and silly as a result. It also started out as a pure dialogue piece, but then I decided it really needed descriptions to work.
> 
> If you're wondering why Alice is citing the "Dinah knocked over the lamp" story as truth when talking about the famous house fire -- that's because, in this universe, it is. _Alice: Madness Returns_ came out after the main story was mostly completed, and while I decided to incorporate some characters and weapons from it into the climax of "Secundus," I didn't want to completely change up Alice's backstory. (Especially as I'd already established her as an only child currently in the care of her aunt and uncle, while A:MR made it clear she had an older sister and no apparent Liddell relatives to stay with after release from Rutledge.) So yeah -- she was at least spared the Bumby trauma on top of everything else. I think we can all agree the fire was really enough.

“Victor, this is ridiculous. Light the fire already.”

“I – I’m fine, I just – the b-blankets are e-enough–” Victor stammered, huddling deeper under the covers.

"You're a very poor liar, Victor Van Dort,” Alice cut him off, scowling. “I can _feel_ you shivering. And don’t start going on about how warm I am. I can’t be that good a human hot water bottle.”

“I’m fine, really!" Victor insisted.

"Really?" Alice pulled out his arm and raised it, showing off his goosebumps in the dim light. "This doesn't look fine to me."

Victor winced. Stupid body, betraying him at every turn. . . . "I just – I don’t want to make you uncomfortable," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. "I m-mean - you’ve told me how your p-parents. . . .”

Alice's face softened as she sighed. “Yes, I have. But that particular fire was caused by the family cat knocking over a lamp into the fireplace. Our lamps are all out, we don't have any near the grate, and we don’t have a cat to knock them over." She hugged herself. "Besides, I’m cold too. I think I’ll be able to bear it.”

Victor wanted to believe that. But the little imp of doubt kept jumping up and down in his mind, reminding him of how often he'd seen Alice avoiding even the smallest blazes in a hearth. “You’re – you’re sure?”

Her expression sharpened to a full-on glare. “Victor, if you don’t get up and light the damn thing, _I_ will. You’ve seen me using Jackbombs, damn it! I’m not _that_ terrified of fire!”

All right, that was a very fair point. Victor turned away, feeling an (somewhat sulky) idiot. Why did he always take these things too far? “. . .I was just trying to be sensitive of your feelings.”

Alice sighed again and touched his shoulder. “I know, Victor, and I thank you. But you know me. There’s no need to treat me like a china doll. Or for either of us to freeze.” She squeezed it lightly. “So get off your hinders and light a damn fire.”

Despite himself, Victor couldn’t hold back a smile as he got up. “I love you too.”


	39. Pretty Girls Make Me Nervous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on the list of Winter Bingo Card Four prompts is _"young!"_ Which somehow led to a comedy piece about how Victor's oldest son got a little more than just his looks from his father. The title is from the Prozzak song of the same name -- I quite enjoy it, and I've always found it rather Victorish. And Chesterish, as will become apparent.

Victor had decided long ago that Chester was his mother’s child. Sure, he was practically a copy of Victor in _looks_ , but in personality? He was confident, brave, often sarcastic, and sometimes a little rough around the edges - in other words, pure Alice. It was all very much the opposite of what Victor had been like growing up.

Which was why Victor couldn’t understand why Alice insisted Chester was more like him than he thought. He’d seen his oldest child in action many times – from sneaky toddler adventures in the far corners of his lab, to childhood tussles with bullies, to teenage scraps with Snarks in Wonderland Park. Chester was a Liddell through and through. _Vincent_ was the one you went to when you wanted an example of a Van Dort in their family. What was Alice seeing that he wasn’t?

And then, one day, Allison Laidlaw came by for tea with her chaperone. And what Victor had  _assumed_ would be an easy hour of entertaining their new neighbor became a comedy of errors. Mostly because of Chester. Chester, who alternated between staring at Allison and being unable to meet her eyes. Chester, who could barely string three words together without nearly stammering his tongue out of his mouth. Chester, who hadn't been able to walk a foot without bumping into the furniture or tripping over the rug. Chester, who'd even started fiddling with his tie near the end of the whole affair.

Oh – _that’s_ what Alice had meant when she’d said Chester really was a young Victor.


	40. Big Eater, Big Problem?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knocking off the next prompt on Winter Bingo Card Four, here we have _"feast!"_ Back when I first started roleplaying Victor Van Dort and writing stuff for him, I thought it would be funny to give him big eater tendencies to contrast with his super-skinny frame. That aspect of his character has been dialed back as the years go on, but he still can put away more food than you'd expect into that beanpole-like body. So when I first saw this prompt, I knew I wanted to do something regarding that -- and the unexpected consequences it has for those around him.

When he'd spontaneously offered Victor a job and a place in his house, Doc hadn’t thought that taking on another assistant would be a problem. After all, he could always use more help around the shop, both with customers and his own inventions. And Victor seemed like a good kid - nervous, sure, but pretty friendly and polite. And a lot less prejudiced against Touched than he'd expected from such an isolated little town. And offering a job on a whim to Marty back in Hill Valley had worked out incredibly well. Why not take on another set of hands, if Victor was interested in staying?

And, for the most part, it had all worked out well. The shop ran better with someone always available at the counter, and his inventions progressed much quicker with the addition of another person to hold tools and listen to ideas. And Victor himself was just good company - eager to learn, fascinated by science (particularly lepidoptery - Doc had never guessed there was so much to learn about butterflies), musically inclined (which put him in Marty's good books), and - fortunately for everyone - largely unbothered by having to sleep on the couch. All in all, he'd proven to be a welcome addition to the household.

Unfortunately, he’d also proven to be a bit of a bottomless pit when it came to food.

Doc was, frankly, baffled by it. Victor was skinny as a rail – almost literally, in fact. And yet, come mealtimes, he was always the first to clean his plate - and usually went for seconds. Not to mention his penchant for snacks. How could he possibly eat so much? Where did it _go_? Sure, the kid did a lot of running around, but - so did he and Marty, and _their_ appetites were perfectly normal! No one else in their circle understood it either. It was a mystery – and an expensive one to boot.

Still, Doc reasoned, staring at the blank spaces in his refrigerator, the increase in food costs was worth having another friend around the place. Especially one so useful. If faced with a choice between having Victor or a full fridge, Doc would always pick Victor.

His stomach growled loudly.

Well. . .99% of the time he’d pick Victor. 


	41. All Hail The Spoon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we come to a rather unusual prompt in Winter Bingo Card four -- _"spoon!"_ Yeah, I don't know either. What I _do_ know is that the resulting short can be blamed entirely on:
> 
> A) Me discovering one of The Tick's battle cries is "SPOOOOOOON!"
> 
> B) My knowledge of the (probably former at this point? I never followed him closely -- I knew about him mainly from Linkara's work) internet reviewer Spoony
> 
> C) Me thinking a sleep-deprived Victor would be HILARIOUS XD Especially bouncing off his baffled and amused wife.
> 
> So yeah, enjoy! (Also, dialogue goes Victor, then Alice, in case it isn't obvious)

“Do you know what’s a funny word?”

“What?”

“Spoon.”

“Spoon’s funny?”

“Spoon’s really funny! Spoooon. Spoon. Spoon. You say it enough times and it stops making sense!”

“Really.”

“Yes! Think about it. Spoon. It really doesn’t mean anything. It’s just what we named a certain utensil. We could have used it as a battle cry if we wanted.”

“. . .A _battle cry_?”

“Why not? Imagine how confused and frightened the enemy would be if we came charging down the hill at them shouting ‘SPOOOOON!’”

“Confused, certainly. . . .”

“Or we could use it as a name! Spoon. Spoony! Good for a boy or a girl! Though I get the feeling it would go better with a boy. . . .”

“All right, Victor, I’m taking this as an object lesson. No matter how much you plead with me, never let you stay up for more than two nights in a row to finish a project. Come on, we’re going to bed.”

“Spoonerfly!”

“Later!”


	42. Dancing Lessons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up from Winter Bingo Card Four -- _"tango!"_ Which, naturally, inspired a fic about Victor's dancing skills -- or lack thereof. Alice's theory in this fic is my own, based on Victor's surprisingly excellent parrying skills during his canonical fight with Barkis. Dude can move pretty smoothly when he's not worrying about his feet. The mention of the chess people's Lobster Quadrille was covered back in "[Come And Join The Dance](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367019/chapters/33428937)" from the Card Three prompt _"dancer."_

“Oh! Oh dear - I d-didn’t actually get your foot, d-did I?”

“No, but it was a near miss,” Alice said, looking down at where Victor's left foot had just clipped her right boot. “I think I should be grateful I'm wearing thick shoes.”

Victor shook his head, pink with embarrassment. “S-sorry. I didn't mean. . .I don’t know _why_ you’re so sure I can learn this. Dancing has n-never been my strong point.”

“You did fine when the Chess people invited us to that ball in your honor,” Alice pointed out.

“Those were _Wonderlanders_. They don't care if you have every step perfect or not. If I tripped and fell there, everyone just chuckled a bit, helped me up, and told me I'd do better next time." He chewed his lip. "R-regular people at regular dances are _much_ less forgiving. I know that from experience.”

“Perhaps not, but you danced the Lobster Quadrille just fine.”

“That was a _quadrille_ though, you're _expected_ to just walk your way through that–”

“Victor.” Alice took his chin, meeting his eyes. “You know what your problem is? You overthink every movement. You get so caught up in trying to figure out what you should be doing that you don't actually  _do_ it." She poked his forehead. "Think about the Quadrille again. You weren't worrying about every step that day. You just followed me and the music, and everything worked out fine. The same principle should work for a waltz. Just listen to the music instead of agonizing over correct form. You _know_ the steps - trust yourself to get them right.”

Victor fiddled with his tie. “I – I don’t know if I can. . . .”

“Try.” Alice pulled him into a quick hug. “I'm sure you can do this if you just stop worrying. Remember, your mother isn't here to berate you for every mistake anymore.” She grinned encouragingly at him. “Come on, what harm will it do?”

_Well, I could step on your foot again, or knock you to the floor, or twirl you into a wall, or twist your ankle, or twist_ my _ankle. . . ._ But he recognized the look in her eyes – she wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “All right,” he said hesitantly. “L-let’s try again.”

Alice smiled and restarted the phonograph. As the dulcet tones of the waltz filled the room again, Victor closed his eyes and did his best just to concentrate on the music. It was hard - the moment they started to move, his mind automatically shot to his feet and where they needed to go. But, after a few slow turns with no major disaster, he relaxed, allowing his body just to move as it would. And to his shock, Alice was right.

When he wasn’t worrying about every step – he could almost be _graceful_.


	43. Wine of Babbling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto to the next prompt off Winter Bingo Card Four, we have _"drunk!"_! This one's actually a prequely-kind of drabble, set when Victor's sixteen -- right after his first experience with alcohol. Yes, I headcanon that shy, stuttering Victor does a one-eighty and becomes a total chatterbox when he's wasted. XD Barry is the Van Dort's butler -- he's mentioned more over in the Forgotten Vows Verse, but he does still exist over here.
> 
> There's a hidden sad part in this story, though -- the incident Victor obliquely refers to, from when he was fifteen? I covered that in my story [Darkest Hour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/822819). Warning: it's about a suicide attempt. Yeaaaah, he did not take his dog's death well. . .

“Oooh. . .my head. . . .”

“Finally back with us, Victor?”

Victor blinked blearily a few times, squinting against the light searing his eyes. After a moment, Mayhew's face swam into focus over him. “I think so. . .what - what happened?” he asked, wincing at every word. Ugh, how could his own voice feel like hammers being pounded into his skull. . .

“Brought you down with me to sample a good ale with Barry and the others last night," Mayhew reminded him with a little smile. "You've been all wound up lately. Was hoping it might relax you." He paused to cough. Victor gritted his teeth against the noise. “Did its job a little too well, I think.”

“What? Why?” The way he felt right now, Victor was pretty sure it hadn't done its job at all.

“Don’t remember?" Mayhew chuckled. "You were on about anything and everything! Whatever popped into your head! I didn't think a fellow could _talk_ that much - certainly not you! You must have tried to tell me your life story twice over.”

Had he? Victor closed his eyes, pushing past the headache in search of the memories. Mayhew had brought him to the pantry with the other servants. . .the bottle had been opened. . .he'd choked on the first glass, his throat aflame as the others laughed and told him he'd be fine. . .and then the second had gone down easier, and the third easier still, and. . .and suddenly it had seemed so _natural_ to speak whatever was on his mind, share it with the world. . .so simple to just babble on and on about art and music, hopes and fears, butterflies and his parents and poor old Scraps -

Scraps. Victor's eyes snapped open, the thought like a bucket of cold water over his head. _"You must have tried to tell me your life story twice over.”_ Had he – had he actually told Mayhew – he wouldn't have, right? He'd promised himself. . . He forced himself up on his elbow, hissing at every movement. “M-Mayhew. . .did I – did I say anything h-horribly embarrassing about - about s-something that happened w-when I was f-fifteen?” _Oh God. . .p_ _lease say no, please say no, I couldn’t bear the shame, the pity –_

“Wha -oh! Nah, you just told me how sad it was Scraps had to go like he did, then you were off again on your butterflies,” Mayhew assured him, patting his head. Victor did his best not to flinch at the touch. “Nothing about – growing pains, we'll call them.” He winked. "You know."

Victor managed a smile. Yes, he did know. And thankfully, Mayhew didn’t. His secret was still safe. And he intended to keep it that way. “Mayhew?”

“Yes, Victor?”

“I think I’m just going to have the o-occasional glass of champagne from now on.”

“Good idea.”


	44. Light Up The Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on the Winter Bingo Card Four prompt list: _"Northern Lights!"_ Which, of course, meant my mind immediately shot straight to Tundraful and its gorgeous night sky from _Alice: Madness Returns_. Could _not_ pass up the chance to work that into the general universe of Secundus. . .though it took me quite a few tries to wrestle the description of the lights themselves into something I was satisfied with! (Seriously, look up "Tundraful" on YouTube or Google Image Search. Or hell, just look up the actual aurora borealis itself. Both are beautiful.) Alice's vague description of Lewis's technobabble is routed in reality -- I looked up how the real Northern Lights work, and cribbed a few phrases from Wikipedia. The title of the short is from a song I like by The Afters.

“Oh my God. . . .”

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Alice smiled. “Lewis told me he got the idea after attending a lecture by some Arctic explorers. Would you believe this light show happens naturally up at the North Pole?"

"Truly? Incredible," Victor breathed, unable to drag his eyes away from the ribbons of vivid green twisting their way across the night sky, shimmering pink at the edges before dissolving away into blooms of bright blue. Behind them, the stars twinkled in a sea of midnight black, brighter than he'd ever seen them before. "I would never - I've never seen anything like it."

Alice nudged him. "You must say that a lot in Secundus."

“Well, y-yes, but. . .this is something else." Victor shook his head. "And Lewis did this all on his own?”

“From what I understand, Doc helped with the moon," Alice said, nodding at the apparent source of the colors - a false crescent with a carved face and a cigarette between its lips. "But Lewis was the one who ultimately got it all to work." She bit her lip. "I'm afraid I didn't quite understand most of his explanation. Something to do with charging the right particles and exposing them to a special magnetic wind before calming them down.”

“It’s all right,” Victor assured her. "I'm no expert in astronomy myself. Maybe later we can ask Doc to draw us a diagram." He grinned as another shimmering streak of green appeared in the sky, flowing out like a river amongst the stars. “Science is wonderful.”


	45. Chick Magnet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up from Winter Bingo Card Four, a rather amusing prompt: _"casanova!"_ The one thing Victor never thought he'd be, until he ended up in Secundus and ended up with two women interested in him while he pined over a third. XD The title is again inspired by TV Tropes, though I imagine most of my audience is familiar with the phrase. (For those of you who aren't -- it's basically slang for a guy who attracts the attention of a lot of girls.)

Victor _still_ had no idea how this had happened.

It just - it defied all sense, at least in his eyes. He was _Victor Van Dort_ – skinny as a rail, whiter than a ghost, too tall for most people to meet his eyes, painfully shy, dreadfully clumsy, and with a distinct lack of interest in "manly" activities such as hunting or sport. Hardly the sort to make the ladies swoon. And swoon they had not - despite his mother's best efforts at all the various balls and soirees they'd attended, most women barely seemed to notice him at all. And the ones who did were either openly contemptuous about accepting him as a suitor, or only interested in hearing more about the Van Dort fortune. It had not surprised him in the least that his parents had had to resort to arranging his marriage with someone he'd never even met - even as his heart ached at the thought of being tied forever to someone who didn't love him. 

And now. . .well. Now he'd had not one, but _two_ gentle, kind, pretty young ladies express an interest in him within the space of a week. More than an interest, in fact – it was very clear both of them would not have minded being his _wife_. (Which was good, as one of them _had_ been his arranged fiancee.) Even more incredibly, despite finding them both delightful company, he’d had to turn them _down_ , because he was in love with a _third_ girl. One who - well, he had no idea how she felt about him romantically. He was too afraid to ask. But she was obviously not repulsed by his presence, given how much time they spent together. In fact, she seemed to like him quite a lot. And not just for his money - for _him_. How could such a change be accounted for?

Maybe someone had slipped something into Secundus’s drinking water. . . .


	46. Lean On Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up from Winter Bingo Card Four, we have _"slippery!"_ Yes, we technically already did one kind of like this, back with the prompt ["black ice"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13367019/chapters/35921517), but this one's set in a different location -- and a different season. In fact, it's kind of a follow-up to a prompt I did for the other major prompt event of the year in Charloft -- 100 Drabbles of Summer! (Not yet up on AO3 as of this writing -- we'll get there eventually!) There, Victor was all excited about visiting the ice caves under Wonderland Park (inspired by the "Icy Reception" area of _American McGee's Alice_ ) to beat the summer heat. Here. . .well, he's learning rapidly about one of the downsides of the place. (And yes, it is basically this slippery in-game -- Victor should count himself lucky this version has no bottomless pits you can accidentally careen into!)

“Okay, I - oh! Oh! No no no no-”

_BANG!_ Victor hissed in pain as his left side slammed into the icy floor of the cave for the third time. "How in God's name are you supposed to _walk_ in this place?” he demanded, not even bothering to lift his head.

“Very carefully,” Alice said, sliding over to him with a grace that seemed to mock him with its very existence. "Trust me, I had plenty of trouble too when I first came here."

"I don't understand how you're not having trouble _now_! It's impossible!" Victor latched onto a nearby stalagmite, dragging himself into a kneeling position. "Ooof. . .if Doc and Marty get a glimpse of all the bruises I've collected, they're going to think I got into a fight!"

"No, they're not - they _know_ you, Victor," Alice responded, offering him a hand. "And may I remind you, _you_ were the one ready to go anywhere to keep out of the heat."

Victor scowled, but accepted the hand. “I didn’t realize the price was my legs betraying me even more than usual,” he grumbled, finally getting his feet back under him.

Alice smiled and pulled him close to her, slinging one arm tight around his back. “Well, that’s the nice thing about being here together – I’m always willing to be your crutch. Now watch closely - if you just follow what I do with my feet, you should be all right. . ."  



	47. Playmate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up from Winter Bingo Card Four prompts -- _"mirror!"_ This was actually an "author's choice" prompt -- I don't recall why I picked "mirror," though given the fic that resulted, I must have had Victor's childhood on the brain. What resulted is probably one of the cutest yet saddest things I've written. Poor little Victor. . .

“Would you like some more tea?”

“Yes, please! I would love another cup!”

"Coming right up!" Victor carefully picked up the teapot and poured a fresh cup of “tea” (actually some apple juice lent for the occasion by the chef) for his guest. "Does anyone else need a top-up?" he asked, looking around the table.

Whiskers and Spots didn't say anything - just looked at him with their button eyes. Victor decided to take that as a no. "All right then." He traded the teapot for the platter of petit fours (also a gift from the chef). "Shall we have our pastry then?"

This time, with the help of a finger, Whiskers and Spots both nodded. Victor distributed the tiny cakes, one to a plate, then dipped the plush cat and dog's heads so they could nibble as they pleased. He sat down and, after a sip of "tea," swallowed his treat in one bite. "Mmmmm. . .oh, aren't you hungry?" he asked, noticing the fourth cake still laying untouched.

"I'll have mine later," his other guest assured him with a little nod.

"All right then." Victor patted Whiskers, then took another sip of "tea." "I don't see why the other boys say 'tea party' is stupid," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm having fun. Aren't you?"

“Lots!" his guest assured him. "I’m so glad you invited me.”

“I’m glad too." Victor looked into his half-empty teacup, a sudden wave of melancholy hitting him. "Just. . ."

“Just what?”

Victor sighed, turning his gaze back up to the ornate mirror sitting across from him at the table. "Just I wish you could talk on your own sometimes.”


	48. Love To Hate You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up from Winter Bingo Card Four -- _"hooks!"_ First thing that came to mind upon seeing that was Nell grousing that Alice had gotten her hooks into Victor, so I decided to run with that. This is part of a larger scene in my head where Victor decides to meet with his parents one last time before they leave the city, to see if any kind of reconciliation is possible. It isn't, mostly because Nell keeps saying shit like this. The title comes from a song by Die Happy -- I heard a snippet of it attached to a CB video once, and that particular bit struck me as very fitting for Nell's attitude toward Alice.

“This all _really_ started when _she_ got her hooks into you, didn’t it?”

Victor blinked as he looked back up from his tea. “W-what? Who?”

“That _Alice_ woman,” Nell snapped, rolling her eyes. Why was her son so dim sometimes? Then again, his brain was literally no longer working properly. . . “Dr. Brown might have been the one to bring you here and brainwash you in the first place, but it’s _her_ fault you stuck around so long! Batting her eyes at you, plying you with her womanly charms, making sure you were too tangled up in her and her poor excuses for friends to ever want to leave. . .she and Brown are probably in cahoots! Pushing you into being something you're not! I bet you anything she's–”

“ _Don’t._ ”

Nell stopped, stunned into silence by the sudden icy anger in her son’s voice. Victor leaned forward, dark eyes boring into her soul. “Don’t you say a _word_ against Alice,” he continued, tone flinty - quite the opposite of her usually shy, retiring son. “There was _no_ grand conspiracy. No manipulation of _'womanly charms.'_   I made friends. I fell in love. I _chose_ to stay here of my own accord. And when the - the m-madness took me. . .she _saved_ me. Brought me back to myself. It's thanks to her that I’m able to talk to you with _any_ sort of sanity at the moment. _So leave her out of this._ ”

With that, he leaned back, letting out a deep sigh. Nell opened her mouth, then closed it again, for once not sure at all what she wanted to say. Miss Liddell was the reason there was only a hint of madness lurking around Victor's eyes? The reason he could come and talk to them like this without breaking into cackling laughter? The reason he wasn't threatening them with some sort of horrible super-bug he'd whipped up in a Creative fit? The reason her son was still mostly her son?

. . .Preposterous. Nell set her jaw. She knew the truth. That girl was a resident of _Secundus_. She  _had_ to have done something to him. And even if what Victor saying was correct –

Well. Then Miss Liddell hadn’t done a good enough job.


	49. Baby’s First Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Into the more holiday-themed prompts on Winter Bingo Card Four with _"dreaming of a white Christmas!"_ When I originally went through the card, this was the last prompt I did, and I decided to go for the family-themed fluff. Chester's birthday is November 5th, so yes, he'd be _much_ too young to appreciate Christmas his first time around. The reference to the snow possibly being vanilla ice cream is a reference to the ice cream snowstorm Flint Lockwood makes for Cal Devereaux's birthday in _Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs_ \-- Flint is part of the Secundus population in this verse, and he makes it snow ice cream every Christmas for the city. Because who among us wouldn't want THAT? XD

“Look, Chester! It’s snowing!”

Chester glanced vaguely at the window, then gurgled and went back to trying to suck on the corner of his blanket. Victor chuckled. “Yes, I know,” he said, gently pulling the fabric free of the infant's mouth. “You’re not even two months old yet. All you care about is when the next meal is coming.”

“Not quite true,” Alice said, leaning on the sill beside them. “He also cares about getting his diaper changed on time.”

“Fair enough - I would too.” Victor looked out at the white flakes drifting down outside, piling up against the glass. (Actual snow, or vanilla ice cream? Either was acceptable to him.) “I can hardly believe it's Christmas tomorrow already. This whole month has been a bit of a blur. . . Your first Christmas, and you don’t even know it’s a holiday,” he added teasingly, turning his attention back to his son.

Chester burbled and reached up toward him with a tiny hand. “He doesn’t have to know,” Alice said, offering him a finger to grasp. “It’s enough that _we_ know.” She gave Victor a smile. “Our first Christmas as three, not two.”

“I know. It's–”

Victor stopped. Was it just him, or - were those tears in Alice's eyes? “Alice? Are you all right?” he asked, mood immediately switching from cheer to concern.

Alice blinked rapidly, shaking her head. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I just. . .” She looked down at Chester, still gripping her finger, then up at him. "I seriously thought I'd never have a family Christmas again."

Victor nodded slowly. “Well, now you are,” he said, shifting position a bit so he could lean against her. “In fact, you’ll have so many, you’ll probably get sick of them by the time he’s eighteen.”

Alice laughed and kissed his cheek. “I could never. I love you, Victor.”

“I love you too, Alice. Merry Christmas.”


	50. Repeating the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy crap, we've hit 50 little ficlets! O.O Just in time for Christmas too -- and, accordingly, this week's Winter Bingo Card Four prompt is also Christmas-themed: _"ghost of Christmas past!"_ Pretty much the moment I saw this one, I knew what I wanted to do with it -- I'd already established Victor and Alice's first son, Chester, as essentially a Victor clone with Alice's eyes, so seeing his kid opening presents on Christmas was naturally going to make Victor think of his own childhood. And, as a bonus, I was able to establish this as the moment when Victor and Alice decided they wanted more kids, leading to Chester's eventual siblings Vincent and Lorina! Nice!

“All right, what’s got you staring at your son as if you’ve never seen him before?”

“Nothing,” Victor replied, not taking his eyes off Chester as the little boy unwrapped another present. “The whole reason I’m staring is because I _have_ seen him before. In the mirror.”

Alice looked between husband and son. "So you still think you look the same as you did at two years old?" she asked, giving him a playful nudge.

"You know what I mean," Victor said, nudging her back. "Besides, my mother has pictures - which I've seen far too often. And. . ." He bit his lip as Chester squealed, lifting a toy butterfly out of the box. "M-maybe I'm just imagining things, but I - I very vaguely remembering doing just what he's doing when I was two. It's like - like I've s-suddenly stepped into a moment from my own past. I keep expecting to look over and see William and Nell on the loveseat."

"I'd better not spot them there," Alice said, sending a glare toward the invisible couple. Then her face softened as she touched Victor's arm. "Does it bother you?"

“It – it makes me w-worry,” Victor admitted, voice low, watching Chester hug the butterfly. “That I’m g-going to make the same mistakes they made. Ruin things for Chester like they did for me.”

Alice wrapped her arm around him, giving him a squeeze. “You won’t. Your son may be a clone of you, but you're the farthest thing from a clone of William or Nell Van Dort. And you're far, far away from Burtonsville now. Perhaps you'll make mistakes, but they'll be your  _own_ mistakes - not theirs." She leaned her head against his shoulder. "And you've got me too, don't forget. We're in this together. And if I have any say in it, Chester is going to have a  _much_ better childhood than you did. I promise." 

Victor smiled, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the toddler to kiss her forehead. "Thanks."

“Daddy!” Chester toddled over and tugged on Victor’s pants leg, holding up the butterfly. “Make it work!”

"What do we say?" Victor replied, leaning over him.

"Pleaaaase?"

"Thank you." Victor obligingly wound up the butterfly and sent it flying around the room. He watched as Chester scrambled after it, bouncing and giggling all the while. “Alice?” he finally said.

“Yes?”

“D-do – do you think a second child would look more like me or like you?”

Alice grinned. “I think we should find out.”


	51. A Perfect Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And onto a less wintry-themed prompt from Winter Bingo Card Four -- _"commitment!"_ This kind of demanded a marriage-related short -- and after searching a bit through my backlog, I realized I'd never actually done the moment where Victor proposed! So -- here you go.

Well - this was it. The big moment. Victor fiddled with the box in his pocket, willing the butterflies fluttering about his stomach to go away. He was almost certain he already knew what Alice's answer to his question would be, but - well, he'd been a worrier all his life. Old habits died hard. And, as the little voice at the back of his head kept reminding him, there was always that _tiny_ chance things wouldn't go the way he expected. That - that this was too soon, or he'd fumble his words, or Alice simply wouldn't be interested, and -

"Victor?"

Victor blinked, coming back to reality to see Alice frowning at him over her teacup. "Is something wrong?" she asked, all concern. "You’ve seemed on edge all throughout this picnic."

Victor rubbed his face, forcing himself to take a deep, calming breath. "Sorry," he murmured. "I know I h-haven't been my best today. It’s just–" Was it just him, or had the box gotten heavier all of a sudden? "I have something v-very important to ask you."

Alice froze, teacup pressed against her lips. Then, suddenly, she grinned. “Oooh.” She set aside the cup and scooted so she was sitting directly in front of him, almost nose to nose. “Well, then - better ask it.”

The butterflies soared through his throat, choking his voice. And here he was, thinking that if she guessed the true purpose of the outing, it would make things _easier_! “W-what? Right - right now?” he managed to croak. Part of him was all for just getting it over with, but – he’d kind of hoped to build up to it a bit more. Say a few romantic things, make a grand gesture or two - play the part of a proper suitor. Not just blurt it out like a ninny.

“You never know when something might ruin the moment,” Alice said, and while her tone was light her eyes were serious. She took his hand. “Right here, right now, everything is perfect. And that’s just how I want to remember this.”

Victor glanced around. She - had a good point. The sun was high and warm, hanging in a perfectly blue sky; the trees tall and green, providing just the right amount of shade; the flowers brilliantly colorful, sending sweet perfume dancing their way on the breeze. And Alice - she'd never looked prettier, favoring him with that delightful smile. How much better could this particular moment get? And with how chaotic Secundus was even on a good day. . .the butterflies calmed as he pulled the box from his pocket. “Alice Liddell, will you marry me?” he whispered, flipping open the lid to reveal the ring.

Alice beamed, presenting her hand. “Yes, I will.”

Two minutes after he slipped the ring on her finger, they had to deal with a stray Boojum raiding their basket, but at least Victor knew the most important moment of the day hadn’t been ruined.


	52. So Long To Sunshine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving onto a sad Winter Bingo Card Four prompt -- _"drummer."_ Sad why, you ask? Well, for reasons I forget now (possibly it was just raining outside at the time), the prompt made me think of rain drumming on a carriage roof. Which my brain took as an opportunity to frame as a rainy day at a funeral. Even worse, originally, it was _Victor's_ funeral -- a "what if?" short where he never went to Secundus, but ended up going Creative anyway from something else and accidentally killed himself trying to set up an experiment. I couldn't bring myself to write it and decided to go with a more canonical sad occasion -- Lewis Carroll's funeral. Even if they have no body to bury, his friends want to honor his memory _somehow_. Sorry you had to die for my plot, Lewis. At least know you were well-liked.

The rain drummed against the roof of the carriage as it pulled up to the cemetery gates. Victor glanced out the window, watching the drops stream down the glass like someone had put a faucet over it. He hadn't seen weather this bad since he'd first arrived in Secundus. Had someone with a weather machine specifically programmed the day to be this miserable? He tipped his hat to them if so - it matched his mood and the occasion perfectly. 

A hand on his wrist made him turn. "Are you all right?" Alice asked softly.

Victor shook his head. There was no point in lying. "I - h-honestly, I can't believe you didn't do this already," he said softly, looking between her, Doc, and Marty. "Given the circumstances."

"We weren't going to hold it without you," Alice said, rubbing his hand. "He would have wanted you there."

"Not to mention we had to make absolutely sure his body wasn't going to turn up," Doc added, voice hushed. "Would have been nice to have something to bury. Or, preferably, try to reanimate."

"Yeah - Finklestein being around means lots of funerals happen after you thought they would," Marty confirmed. "Honestly, we might be holding it early compared to most around here."

Victor nodded. "I see." He sighed deeply, the old, familiar ache of guilt pulsing in his chest. "It's not fair."

“Not much is in this life,” Alice said, eyes much older than her nineteen-odd years. "Take it from someone who knows."

Marty opened his door, shaking his head. “Come on, guys. Let's not keep the others waiting.”

They exited the cab, popping open umbrellas and heading up the path to the chosen spot. Father Gale, Christopher, Richard, Cheshire, and the others were already gathered there, huddled under their own meager protection against the rain. Victor wiped the wet out of his eyes as he gazed upon the headstone - a simple thing, stating only name, date of birth, and "He Will Be Missed." The perfect marker for a grave without an occupant. His stomach clenched. How could all this be happening? Why hadn't Lewis simply - why hadn't he noticed -

Alice wrapped a steadying arm around him. “Please, Victor," she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. "It wasn’t your fault.”

Everyone kept telling him that. Only when she said it did he really believe it. “I’ll t-try to remember that,” he whispered back, squeezing her tight against him.

"Are we all assembled?" The group nodded. Father Gale opened his book. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to say goodbye to the soul of Lewis Lutwidge Carroll. . . .”


	53. Know Your Customer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, time to lighten the mood again -- this next Winter Bingo Card Four prompt is _"hay!"_ This one's a pure dialogue comedy piece, all about an eager salesman who _really_ should have let Victor get a word in edgewise.

“Er – hello?”

“Hello, sir! Might I trouble you for a moment of your time?”

“Um–”

“Wonderful! Now, I see you have a fine stable over there, with a fine horse inside, I’m sure! And a fine horse needs only the finest food! Here I have a sample of–”

“Oh, no thank you, we don’t need anything.”

“Nonsense! You won’t find a finer crop of hay anywhere in this whole city! It’s been modified to grow quicker, with more nutrients, then any other hay around! Horses who eat this hay are healthier, faster, stronger, and all around better! Go ahead, let me try a sample on your beast!”

“No, you see–”

“Right in here, is he?”

“Yes, but he isn’t–”

“Just trust me! This hay is the most magnificent hay anyone could ever grow and cut! He’ll love it!”

“I assure you he won’t, because–”

“Oh, come on, what’s so wrong with your – your–”

“Yes, you see, _butterflies_ don’t typically eat hay. Now, if you were selling a new and improved form of _nectar_. . . .”


	54. Long-Lost, Newly-Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up on Winter Bingo Card Four -- _"aunt!"_ Which reveals a family member that Victor only just knew about, growing up. . .yes, Nell in fact has a sister! She was the older of two girls from a rather poor family, and she left her parents and sister in the dust pretty much the moment she got William to marry her. Elaine doesn't have the riches Nell has -- she works as a washerwoman -- but she has a lot more common sense, compassion, and -- fortunately for Victor -- tolerance of the weird. I confess to never having a solid idea in mind for the setting of this one -- it's definitely not Secundus, and Victor's not likely to ever go back to Burtonsville at this point. . .my best guess is Victor's a trip to London, possibly to attend some "normal" scientific conference on butterflies.

“Oh!"

Victor hopped backwards, hands held up in his standard gesture of apology. "Do excuse me. I didn’t see you there.”

"Don't worry, dear," the woman he'd just bumped into replied, brushing off her skirts. "It’s quite all–”

She froze as she looked up at him, eyes wide. Victor stared back, confused. Why did she seem so startled, all of a sudden? "Er - i-is something wrong?" he asked, fighting back a growing feeling of unease.

“You look familiar. . .” The woman straightened up, scrutinizing Victor from head to toe. “Your last name’s not - Van Dort, is it?”

Victor tensed. Oh no - was she a displaced Burtonsvillian?  _And here I thought none of them ever left except me. . ._ “Er, yes.”

“Related to William Van Dort?”

“Yes, I’m - I _was_ his son," Victor corrected himself, biting his lip. 

The woman gasped. “Oh my goodness - Victor!" she cried, grabbing his hand. "I would have _never_ expected to meet you here! Or anywhere, really, given how Nell is. And here's me thinking she's exaggerating when she said you sprang up like a birch tree - you're six feet if you're an inch! What brings you to London?”

“I - wha - beg pardon?” Victor sputtered, pulling his arm away. “Who _are_ you?”

The woman huffed. “And here I thought she'd at least mention me to her own _kin_ \- hello, Victor, I'm your aunt."

Victor's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You're - my - what?"

"Elaine Cobbler," the woman introduced herself, holding out her hand. "Your mum's younger sister. _Not_ that she cared to acknowledge my existence in public once she landed her rich husband,” she added, scowling. “But she deigned to send the occasional letter and picture my way. I always did want to meet you properly.”

“Oh!" Victor pressed his hands over his mouth. "I - s-she did mention you. Occasionally. Around holidays." _More or less to cluck over how you'd never made anything of yourself, not that you need to hear that._ "I’m – I’m glad to meet you too!" He pulled at his tie. "Um – h-how are you?”

“Just fine, dear," Elaine said, smiling. "Quite happy to see you in the flesh at last! How long are you in the city? I would like to get together and have a proper chat at last. Hear all the things Nell left out of her letters.”

_Like how I was accidentally kidnapped by a flying steam train and taken to the Mad Science Capital of the World?_ Victor thought, twisting his tie into a corkscrew. _How I fell in love with someone there after they'd arranged my marriage? How I Went Creative and murdered a tentacle monster? How I'm currently in town to show off some of my Fabricated butterflies? Oh dear, she seems nice, but she_ is _related to my mother. . .but then again,_ I'm _related to my mother, and look at me. I should at least give her a chance._ "I'll b-be here until the end of the week," he told her. "Perhaps we could have c-coffee tomorrow? There seems to be no shortage of shops. . ."

“I'd like that," Elaine replied. "I want to know everything you've been up to. Especially - did you know your name was in the paper a while back? Said you helped save  _Secundus_! I wasn't sure what to make of it - especially since Nell didn't say anything about it at  _all_ that Christmas. In fact, she didn't mention you in the whole letter - and didn't reply when I asked." She clasped her hands, eyes all concern. "Did something -  _happen_ , Victor?"

Victor nodded slowly, confidence buoyed a bit by the worry in her tone. "A big something. It's a story best told over a lot of coffee and donuts, Mrs. Cobbler."

"We'll want to go to the Ground Fresh coffee house then. And please, call me Aunt Elaine," Elaine said, giving his arm a pat.

That got a smile out of him. "All right - Aunt Elaine."


	55. A Different Sort of Decoration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, we're done with Winter Bingo cards! Let's move onto something a bit different -- some prompt fic of my own design. For a couple of years, I did various Christmas fic-a-thons over on my LiveJournal/Dreamwidth, and in 2011 I decided to do a series of twelve for the 12 Days of Christmas. This prompt, _Day 3: wreath_ , was inspired by Butterfly Boy (my roleplaying journal for the Secundus version of Victor) posting a picture of some steampunk ornaments on the Charloft community on LiveJournal. Shortly thereafter, the image of clockwork wreaths sprung into my mind, which in turn made me think of Doc putting one on his door -- and the rest flowed from there. It got slightly depressing at the end without me meaning it to (writing about Nell and Victor's childhood tends to do that), but at least it also reaffirms Victor's finally gotten the family he's always wanted.

“And – there!”  
  
Doc snipped the final bit of wire, then held up his handiwork for Victor and Marty to admire. “What do you think?”  
  
“Looks great, Doc,” Marty said, giving his friend a thumbs up.  
  
“It’s just perfect for the shop,” Victor agreed with a grin.  
  
“Thanks – I thought so,” Doc said, turning the wreath back toward himself. It was an eclectic conglomeration of wheels, gears, and cogs, all carefully interlocked into a large ring and reinforced with steel wire. Soldered across the top arc were the words “Merry Christmas” written in bent nails and screws. “And frankly, metal is easier to get than greenery in this part of the city. Cheaper, too.” He headed for the front door, his two assistants following. “I suppose I could _paint_ it green, all things considered. . . .”  
  
“No, it’s perfect the way it is,” Victor assured him. He watched as Doc positioned the wreath just so on the door. “Just. . .perfect.”  
  
Marty glanced up at him, frowning. “You okay? You sounded a little - distant, for a sec.”  
  
“I’m just - remembering Christmas in Burtonsville," Victor admitted, fiddling with his fingers. "The way my mother would cover our house, inside and out, with expensive decorations to impress the neighbors.” He looked again at the wreath, hanging humbly from its nail. “And this - this outshines them all. B-because it was made with real attention. Real – love.”  
  
There was silence for a moment. Then Doc and Marty moved in unison to wrap Victor in a tight hug. “You're far away from those assholes now," Marty reminded him. "Them and their fakey Christmas."  
  
“We’ll always be here for you, Victor,” Doc added, patting his back. “Don’t ever forget that.”  
  
Victor smiled and hugged back. “I won’t. I promise.”


	56. Missing Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onto another homemade prompt -- which doesn't actually HAVE an associated word this time. It's just _25 Days of Multiverse 2013, Day Six_. As you might guess, this was another self-imposed Christmas challenge -- 25 short Christmas-themed stories, sent in every possible fic universe I could think of to write in. Secundus was obviously one of those, and claimed the sixth spot. And I decided, for this one, I wanted to do something really different.
> 
> Not feature Victor. 
> 
> At least, not in the starring role. Instead, I went with Marty and his girlfriend Jennifer as the main characters, and decided to make it about the Christmas that separates "Secundus" from "Secundus 2." Marty and Doc return to Hill Valley in-between the stories, you see, and -- well, while they're back to be with their loved ones. . .they're also missing the ones they left behind. A dose of fluff mixed with a dose of angst -- my favorite.

“Man – it’s great to be home for the holidays. I missed too many Christmases with you, Jen.”  
  
“You only missed two,” Jennifer pointed out, giggling.  
  
“And that's two too many,” Marty replied, leaning in to give her a kiss. “I mean, yeah, Christmas in Secundus was pretty wild, but you were always on my mind this time of year.”  
  
“So were you.” Jennifer returned the kiss before snuggling into him. “It's great to have you back.”

"It's great to be back! Still can't believe the mayor actually forgave us. Sort of."

Jennifer chuckled. "Well, he isn't trying to string you up. I guess that's enough." She studied his face in the firelight. "You sure you're okay, Marty?"

"Yeah." Marty frowned at her. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You just - look a little wistful." She bit her lip. "Somebody else on your mind now that you've got me back?"

Marty sighed. "Sheesh - I'm that obvious, huh? Sorry, Jen - I promise, I'm thrilled to be back here with you. Just. . .I had a lot of friends over in Secundus too. Richard, Emily, Christopher, Victoria, Alice. . .Victor. . ."

Jennifer patted his shoulder. "Still can't believe you and Doc basically kidnapped a guy into being your other best friend."

That got a snort. "Hey, we _offered_ to bring him back. He said he wanted to stay." He sighed again, long and low. "But yeah. . .he really is. I wish you could have met him, Jennifer. All of them."  
  
Jennifer kissed his cheek. “Well, hopefully one day I will.”


	57. Perfect Evening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, back to the Charloft prompts for a bit as -- at the time of this note -- it's coming up on Valentine's Day, and the community had a Valentine's challenge! The Cupid Challenge wasn't as involved as Winter Bingo or the 100 Drabbles of Summer, but it was fun nonetheless. The aim of the game was, you got a list of six random words, and you had to write a short fic incorporating as many as possible. I did it twice and got all six words both times. Here's my first entry, with the list: _dinner, stockings, lay, selflessness, balloons, movies_ Not NSFW, but it does hint at naughtiness!

It had been a truly perfect evening, Alice decided afterwards.

Not that she'd thought their first anniversary as a married couple would be _bad_ \- far from it. But she'd thought that they would have a simple, quiet night in. Nothing fancy or over-the-top - they weren't those kind of people. Just an acknowledgement and an exchange of gifts. A tiny celebration didn't mean they loved each other any less.

Instead, Victor had pounced on her almost the moment she came home, happily brandishing two sets of tickets - one to dinner at the Roofless, and the second to the new entertainment that had sprung up lately - the "movies." She'd been startled but game, and after a quick exchange of clothes, they hit the town. Their meal was delicious, Flint's invention in fine form. He'd even been kind enough to order up cake for them on the house. And the film - oh, it had been magical! The way Pratchett Studios brought still images to life like that, stringing them together into a story of a trip to the dark side of the moon - even after years in Secundus, little things like that still amazed her. She'd already reserved their tickets for the next one to come out.

And then they'd gone back home, and - well. Somehow, Victor had made her feel even better. She was still astonished by his devotion to her, his utter selflessness when it came to her pleasure. Some of the things he did when they lay together – well, it made one feel giddy, like she’d swallowed the gas from a couple of balloons. It was nights like these, lying wrapped in his arms, feeling warm and loved, that made her realize just how truly lucky they’d been to find each other.  
  
Yes, it had been a perfect evening. Now, if only she could find her stockings. . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Pratchett Studios" is a nod to Terry Pratchett, one of my favorite authors -- Secundusians going to the movies made me think of his early Discworld book _Moving Pictures_ , where Ankh-Morpork briefly gets them. Fortunately there's less eldritch things trying to break through the fabric of reality in Secundus.


	58. It's The Little Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the second Cupid's Challenge fic -- this time, the word list is _belt_ , _bird_ , _pleasure_ , _twine_ , _desire_ , _St. Valentine_. And, once again, I ended up on the sexier side of the street -- wouldn't call it Not Safe For Work, but it's even closer to that line than the previous fic was. At least that one was mostly about a date. . .

At times like this, Victor noticed, it was the little things that caught his attention.

Things like the way Alice's hands brushed against his waist as they worked to get his belt off with utmost speed. Her silky hair sliding through his twined fingers as her lips insistently sought his. Her leg rubbing against his own as they made the most of the narrow bed. His heart thrummed in his chest, like a bird beating its wings against his ribs. He hadn't known he was capable of this much desire - this much pleasure. And they'd only just barely begun! There was still so much more to see, to feel, to smell, to taste. . .so many other little things to enjoy. . .

Alice broke away for a moment as she finally slipped off the offending loop of leather. "Glad we decided to spend the evening in?" she whispered.

"Extremely," Victor replied, grinning through a kiss-bruised mouth.  
  
He _really_ loved St. Valentine’s Day.


	59. Carnival Cups

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a truly random bit of story I came up with after reblogging a particular picture from the _The Art of Alice: Madness Returns_ book. The image in question featured a potential platforming section where Alice was jumping on wobbly stacks of plates, with giant teapots all around making things more difficult by pouring hot tea onto them. Near the back, though, another giant teapot caught my eye -- this one sporting a carnival-like dome, with teacups sat all around it on a huge serving dish like a carousel. Obviously my brain immediately made a connection with the famous "spinning teacups" ride, like you can find at the Disney parks. That seemed like something tea-obsessed Richard would build for funsies -- and so this short was born! Since I wanted Clara Brown, nee Clayton, involved, this takes place after "Secundus 2" and the birth of Chester -- you can assume the infant's off to the side with Great-Aunt Susan and Great-Uncle Charles, being spoiled.

"Wheeeee!"  
  
Alice laughed, twisting the wheel set between her and Victor even faster. "Come on, darling, keep up!" she mock-scolded, as they went round and round and round.  
  
"I'm trying!" Victor said, caught between amusement and terror as he desperately tried to match his wife's pace. "I swear you're going to send us spinning right off this thing!"  
  
"Think of it as a stress test," Alice said, beaming. Around them, the world whirled and twirled frantically, nothing but streaks of green and yellow and gray and brown. "Richard did want to see how well this thing worked!"  
  
"I think it works just fine!" Victor gripped the sides of the oversized teacup and risked a peek at the other passengers of the ride – what he could see of them with Alice determinedly whipping them in circles. Doc and Clara seemed to be doing well, laughing and whooping as they spun in place. Marty too appeared to be having the time of his life – Jennifer seemed to share Victor's opinion that a slightly more sedate pace would be more enjoyable. He couldn't see Victoria and Christopher or Richard and Emily – their seats were on the other side of the giant teapot that dominated the middle of the main platform – but he could hear the ladies shrieking in what he guessed was delight. It _was_ fun, but. . . "Can't we go a little slower?" he begged, sinking back down into his seat and pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'm getting _really_ dizzy."  
  
Something in his tone must have added, _And I'm liable to be sick soon,_ because Alice immediately halted her mad spinning. "Sorry," she said, grimacing as they began to slow. "I forgot for a moment you loaded up on squimberry tarts before Richard insisted we try this."  
  
"Not the best idea," Victor agreed, relaxing a little as the individual trees and bushes of Wonderland Park came back into view. Oh, that was better. . . "I didn't mean to ruin your fun."  
  
"Oh, not at all," Alice assured him, scooting over to pat his hand. "I just got caught up in the moment." She looked around at a soft  _grrrrumble_ of hidden gears. "Besides, it seems the ride's over anyway."  
  
Indeed, all the other teacups were slowing down as well, as the main platform ceased its steady rotation. There was a little _bump_ as  everything came to a standstill, and then a _wheeeeeeee_ of steam from the teapot's spout. Richard promptly burst from the control center hiding inside of it, bounding from teacup to teacup to check with everyone. "Well? What did you think? Did you like it?"  
  
"Marvelous!" Doc declared, Clara applauding.  
  
"Yeah, totally!" Marty agreed, as Jennifer mustered up a smile. "You sell these things to a carnival, you'd make a mint!"  
  
"I enjoyed myself – I'm not so sure about Victor," Alice said, rubbing her husband's back.  
  
"Oh, I was fine for most of it," Victor assured both her and a frowning Richard. He rubbed his still-roiling stomach. "But I think you should add a warning sign about not eating right before you get on."  
  
"Noted," Richard said, pulling a pad of paper from his hat. "Christopher and Victoria were looking a bit green too – and I _know_ green," he added, tapping his temple with his pen.  
  
Victor laughed. "It _was_ fun, though. I think Marty's right – any carnival worth its salt would love this."  
  
"Well, tis the season – we'll see what happens the next time a circus passes through." Richard pursed his lips, then started scribbling something else down. "Here – what do you think about a version where the teapot in the middle spins too – and occasionally tips over to splash people with tea?"  
  
"I think you'd only get away with that in summer, and only if it was cold tea," Alice said.  
  
"Or plain water," Victor agreed. "Though, on that note. . .maybe a teapot water slide is something to consider?"


	60. Keeping Victor Victor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We now move to another set of self-directed prompts -- the Drabbles88! This was a table of 88 prompts that I created specifically for _Back To The Future_ -related fic (BTTF being _the_ fandom for me back in the day). Naturally, a few prompts ended up being set in the world of Secundus. This one is _62\. Disease_ , which features Doc's thoughts on Victor's recent Going Creative right after he got the poor guy home post the climax. As you might imagine, he's a bit worried. . .

_So - now we wait._

Doc closed his bedroom door with a sigh. Part of him said that he was doing something incredibly stupid – Victor had  _just_ Gone Creative! In a major way! He needed to be monitored carefully, to prevent further incidents! But - but his friend had _already_ been through so much, with Alice and the Queen. . . _and_ he'd gotten a dose of Richard's strongest sedative. Surely they could risk giving him a bit of privacy to sleep. Maybe in an hour they'd come back around and see if - if. . .

Doc's head bonked against the door, almost of its own accord. How the hell had all this _happened_?! Yesterday, if you'd suggested that Victor Van Dort - shy, introverted, mundane Victor - could have Atypical Scientific Neural Disorder, he would have laughed at the apparent joke. Never in a million years would he have guessed his newest assistant was a latent mad scientist in the making. Sure, Victor had been utterly fascinated by Secundus and its various Inventions, but you didn't have to _be_ a Touched to appreciate the fruits of their labors. And yes, he'd had an interest in butterflies that went beyond the norm, but Regular people could develop scientific obsessions as well. Victor - Victor had just never seemed the _type_ to Go Creative, once and for all. He'd been too quiet, too gentle, too - _stable_.

And yet, not an hour ago, that same quite, gentle, stable young man had stormed dramatically into the flesh-tainted hell that made up the inner sanctum of Looking-Glass House, killed the monstrous Queen with an equally horrific Invention, then gone off on a rant worthy of a Frankenstein (or hell, maybe even a Heterodyne). Doc had seen up close the fire in the Victor’s eyes, heard the distinct change in tone that signaled Creativity. Not to mention witnessed what Victor had done to Emily (though she'd taken pains to assure everyone she was really all right). Proof that one could never assume they knew for sure someone was safe from the madness. And now. . .

“Doc?”  
  
Doc lifted his head and turned around. Marty was still disheveled from their adventure, spattered with blood and other substances of more mysterious origin. He was pale underneath the grime, blue eyes wide with fright, voice strained. “He’s – he’s gonna be okay, right?”

"I-" Damn it, what did he say? Marty had a lot of experience with the Touched, but Doc was ninety-nine percent certain this had been his first time witnessing a Creative breakthrough. Under less than ideal circumstances no less. And the kid was an excellent assistant, and easily his best friend, but - he was also a Regular. There were just some things he couldn't understand. Things like ideas building up in your head, invading your dreams, crowding out every other thought - churning and burning and spinning until one day - one day you just _snapped_ and all of them came pouring out of you, a wonderful and deadly river of  _science_ , your mind opening up to both the wonders and the horrors of the universe, and - unless you held on with every last ounce of your might - the old you just –  
  
Doc squeezed his eyes closed, getting a grip on himself. Decades on and still those memories gave him the chills. . . And now Victor was fighting the same current - the same madness. A madness that had already caused him to break down once. . . Doc shivered, recalling all the little notices in the paper of new Touched who'd met terrible ends. It had taken  _him_ considerable time and willpower to pull himself back from the brink when he'd Gone Creative. What hope did anxious, so unsure of himself Victor have?  

_Well - me, for one,_ a voice piped up from the back of his head. _And Marty. And Alice and Richard and Christopher and Victoria and Emily and - hell, probably the whole damn city, once they hear he's responsible for the death of the Queen. If nothing else, we can make sure he doesn't go through this alone. That, unlike most of us, he has someone nearby to help. Someone who can understand._

Doc nodded and beckoned Marty into a hug. "We'll look after him," he said softly, aware that it was something of a non-answer. But it was the best he could give, under the circumstances. They were all in for a bumpy road ahead, adjusting to the new status quo. But Victor was his friend, and damned if he wasn't going to do everything in his power to save him. "Maybe, together, we can keep Victor – _Victor_."  
  



End file.
